Spring on Ash Wednesday

Ash Wednesday, February 22, 2012

 

Begins again this Springward journey;

rebirthing all that once lived.

Trickle again once fickle brook and stream

sickle sighs yet in repose, sleeping still.

Earth, sore and Winter-stiff, seeks, sighs

stretches out skinny arms of want.

Her cold, hard bosom births not what soon will come

e’er the Sun’s hungry mouth suckles,

fills his lusty gut on hopeful barrenness

feasting on milk of timeworn, weary passage.

She forgets not the suddenness of late

and sooner dark, splayed upon a fine, greenness

come for to spite the buds of transforming light

bidding death where life has yet to emerge.

Warmly insistent she speaks, sharing her story

poured out over the long-shadowed land.

Bring such bothersome beauty to branchier speech,

fall around us, spilling, foaming such fury

and fermenting our soon-drunk wine of promise;

earthen spirit’s Eucharistic prayer.

Hush now, silence yourself bold coldness and spare not

freedom’s great gift only taken this once year’s-life.

Steep instead in warmness, worried not for lack

but bubbling and birthing bold words lightly spoken.

Remind us, refresh and reframe what is still rooting,

routing sad night-hood to don the new, the now, the never again;

only to return, restored and restoring,

regenerated, reborn.

Give us again your beauty for our ashes.

Wednesday speaks your secrets.

Advertisements

5 thoughts on “Spring on Ash Wednesday

  1. I love your word combinations, the sound of them… Winter-stiff, once fickle brook, long-shadowed land. A beautiful and melodic piece, reminding me that today is a special day and I had forgotten that. Thank you Rob.

    1. Rob, beautiful poem/prayer. Here our Lenten theme is on wilderness and how it speaks into our lives as both metaphor and physical place. Your poem evokes that sense of entering into mystery and opening up to what is within and all around. Thank you.

  2. Reblogged this on Rob's Lit-Bits and commented:

    Now, as we approach the exciting conclusion to the Lenten journey, I repost something written at its beginning. The end of something is tied to its beginning and dependent on the in-between, or life in the dash, as it were. That’s where we live until God says otherwise…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s