Seeker of Ash

Ash Wednesday · Beginning of Lent
February 17th, 2021


I’m drained
from invitations to
follow the Light —
eyes on the prize
of resurrection.

As if
the light
is the only thing
we need
to seek,
and it’s

there.

No. (there.)

Just. out. of. reach.

Separate from me.

I try to grasp it.

Arms stretched.

Fingers.

Can’t.

Reach.

the

Blaze.

I fall on my knees.

Exhausted

from Trying.

Overhead,
silver fingers wisp in the sky;
they point to the ground.

I take my fingers
and press them into soft soil,
move them through blades of grass —
dirt finds my fingernails;
I start to dig
without thought.

Soon enough,
I’m elbows deep
in faint memories
laced with red oxide
and healing powers.

Holy richness
from the black abyss rises,
reverence of the dark.

I lean in and listen —
a buzz of forgotten stories reach me,
tales buried under twisted roots
release.

I stand woozy from what I’ve uncovered.
My legs carry me to Solo Scriptura.
I look for confirmation
of what I’ve found.

The black text is a clue.
The red letters are a map.
I become a detective.

I pull my magnifying glass out
and peruse in-between the letters;
inspect the shadow spaces only few
are brave enough to speak about.

I find an age-old thread.

This gray strand leads me to
the basement of the sanctuary.
Here, lost, sacred stories reside
behind secret doors.

From a high shelf, I gently pull
one volume down upon my lap.
I dust off the cover.
Hazy ash fills the air.

Slowly, I crack the spine open
with a soulful recognition that
loosened ash leads to life.

First, I hang my head
and weep
for all that’s been concealed.

One Comment

  1. […] continuation from Ash Wednesday’s poem, Seeker of Ash)• • […]

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