Ash Wednesday Poem

I wrote this poem years ago, as a reflection after reading Psalm 102. On this Holy Day, I share it with you.

“I am like a sparrow, lonely on a house-top. . .” (Psalm 102:7b)

She perches high on a windy rooftop,
Tiny dark silhouette against gray skies of Lent,
Lonely singer of psalms whose
Ancient music haunts those who hide.
her throat sets notes free that
Echo among the ruins
In stony wilderness below.
Deeply wailing, deeply wailing.

Ah Lent, come again
To lay bare our sins
Of mortality and hatred
That wither joy and
Throw broken bones of peace against parched earth.

She eats no bread.
The salt of her tears creates
Rivers of ashes from a
Dark cross drawn on her forehead,
And her bones burn
From tight shrouds of fear
That wrap her trembling body,
That entomb her broken heart.

Ah Lent, come again
To lay bare my sins
Of fear and anger
That tightly clutch my heart and
Throw broken bones of peace onto parched earth.

She shrugs her old life off
Like a worn-out cloak.
It falls silently around her feet,
A soft, dark shroud
That no longer keeps her
Warm and safe.
She perches naked, high on a windy rooftop.
Deeply wailing. Deeply wailing.

Ah Lent, come again
To heal my wounds
Of loneliness and fear
That cut harsh lines into my soul and
Throw broken bones of peace onto parched earth.

She perches in silence, high on a windy rooftop,
Waiting for narrow-eyed enemies.
They scoff under darkening skies,
Their stony hearts crusted with pride.
She knows they will spit in her face
For sins left undone.
The silence of her voice echoes over the bones of earth.
Its deep wails set free against gray skies of Lent.

© the Rev. Sheila N. McJilton
Published in The Anglican Theological Review (Spring 2000, Vol. 82, No. 2)

Read Full Post »