...the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life...

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

1. Ash Wednesday

Here comes one, and early, too:
Young woman, forehead-smudged
Prior to most people’s punch-in
For the day. It’s been years for me
Since I went to that kind of church.
I don’t feel more without without
The mark, but I miss it anyway, 
The way it said to anyone I passed
Past sins are absolved, resolved
Into product of energy exchange. 
Entropy. Decay. Which means
The external mark, misread by more 
And more, though temporary, is etched
Within on stone softened by water.

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