Remember man, that thou art dust
and to the desert shall return
will you know it by an utter edge
to point and say, "Here our lent begins
beyond this fine line."
Or else, it's a gradual creep
as the green grows sharper and sparser,
then none, until late in the afternoon,
the arid wastes rise to meet the
blister of the sun, it sinks suddenly,
there is nothing else
we've been here a while.
and who knows if he will turn and relent.
Call a solemn assembly.
Our Lent is for sharing
the moment for turning
no longer in shame
but towards a love
that is always today.
Today, as a breath of fire
leaps from the starved ciders
a surge to reach the town
before the night veils the wild
and cats claw and wail where
everything is lost.
