Ash Wednesday
Some Lenten season. In the crisp
dawn light, a ministry begins.
Past echoes future, in a wisp
of dawn air, in our weary sins.
It would be time to break this fast,
but it is not. The visions come.
So, is our death, death at the last?
What lives in this millennium?
The Son of Man takes up the cross
that He will hang on. In His cup:
rejection, sacrifice, and loss.
The heart goes out. The gaze goes up.
Ash Wednesday
Like that John, a pleasing echo of this opening line...In the crisp
dawn light, a ministry begins.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/ ... t-midnight