‘What is to give light must endure burning.’ Viktor Frankl
This post is a response to Christine over at Abbey of the Arts, who hosts Poetry Party twice a month. Since this is the week of Ash Wednesday, the topic for the week is ‘ashes to ashes’. She invites anyone to post poetry or reflections to her post and then on your own blog if you have one. They do not have to be overtly religious in nature.
Lent begins this week. During the imposition of ashes at the Ash Wednesday service some of us will hear the words “from dust you came and to dust you shall return.” The ashes are a tangible reminder of our temporal bodies. I love this beginning to the season of conversion and re-ordering of priorities. The reminder of our mortality is meant to confront us with the preciousness of our days and demands that we ask how we want to spend our time….This week’s Poetry Party is an invitation to explore through poetic imagery the reality of our shared limits and what stirs in us in response.
Here is my entry to ‘ashes to ashes’:
When tempted to relate only to
the ashy taste in my mouth
of things left undone
love not expressed
relationships wounded
words of my spiritual friend echo:
‘What about the light and heat
that were released in the formation of
those ashes?’
I smile and know that as I become ashes
I’m also releasing a veritable river of heat and light.
My own kind of comet.
“We come from the earth, we return to the earth, and in between we garden.” – Anonymous
This is beautiful Beth, I love the line "I’m also releasing a veritable river of heat and light." Thanks for this offering.
Really wonderful ideas…
This is lovely, and a nice link up with the comet that’s currently touring our planet!
This poem is submitted by my friend and fellow fire-keeper Jonathan Merritt, from Portland, Oregon
Clear Night
Clear night, cold, a dancing fire
every finger of flame a flash of being,
a little life like mine leaping up
as the fire transforms the wood to essence
ash in the fire pit, smoke in my eyes.
And the water in the wood hisses the song of its essence,
rising again to be gathered in the sky,
to fall once more on the land,
to find its way to another tree
destined for some future fire.
The fire snaps its fingers and sings its song.
The wind sings along
through the pine needles and cedar boughs.
The moon waltzes by in her winter shoes
and the owl adds her voice from the alder.
The children sing in their sleep.
My love sambas in her dream.
Clear night, cold, everything alive.
Dear Beth, your poem and Jonathan’s have jump-started my day. Lovely!
My heart is warmed and my spirit joyous. Thank you.
Love you, Jessica
too good
nice page!
No idea who to attribute this stunning photo to, but it was sent by Rozy A. Thanks, Rozy! Prayer to the