(a pantoum for Ash Wednesday)
A Word upon Your lips may live,
but I am tired and crying out.
What drops of mercy can you give
to weary ones in dusty drought?
I am so tired of crying out
to broken people as they pass,
so weary of this dusty drought:
“All people wither like the grass.”
The broken people as they pass
adorn their brows with ash and cross.
All people wither like the grass,
all people live to know their loss.
Adore my brow of ash, O Cross,
and lift my eyes up from the grave.
All people here may own the loss:
Divinity in dust may save.
O, lift my eyes up from my grave!
A world fed from Your lips may live.
Divinity through dust shall save,
and drops of mercy will forgive.
A voice says, “Cry out.”
Isaiah 40:6-8
And I said, “What shall I cry?”
“All people are like grass,
and all their faithfulness is like the flowers of the field.
The grass withers and the flowers fall,
because the breath of the Lord blows on them.
Surely the people are grass.
The grass withers and the flowers fall,
but the word of our God endures forever.”