Tonight, ashes eve.
Tomorrow, ashes drawn
feeling them there
where I cannot see them.
Not this year. This isolation.
No one will spread oily ashes
in the sacred sanctuary.
I will remember them –
ashes of yesteryears –
gritty scrape and black
and find myself, again,
looking to the saving season.
Lent. Remembrance, remorse
for the sick and the dying.
Salvation out of suffering –
born of darkness, like life
escaping the jaws of death.
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Portland, Oregon – February 16, 2021. Eve of Ash Wednesday in the Catholic liturgical year.
Ash Wednesday
Ashes, Ashes
“Remember that you are dust and to dust you will return.”
We begin with the end –
how our bodies will be
when we let go
of our last breath
when the blood in us slows,
stops, and our hearts
drum no more inside.
Ashes as warning
signs on our foreheads
soon washed away
leading us darkly
as, with solemn steps,
we cross winter’s desert
for the oasis of spring.
Portland, Oregon – February 26, 2020. Ash Wednesday
In Cascadia 