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Monday, March 7, 2022

Poem: "Ashes" by Ann Weems

Two nights ago I knelt and took the ashes from the fireplace. It was some time before I saw evidence of the smudge of ash upon my face. I washed it quickly away. 

Last night I knelt and took the bread and dipped it in the cup, and then I felt the cool smooth finger of ash upon my forehead, ashes from last year’s palms saved for this holy time. I wondered if there might still be some remnant of Hosanna! lingering in the ashes. 

All evening long I wore the ash, that holy ash, and when others saw the smudge, I wondered if they were inclined to wipe it clean or to lean closer in the hope of hearing some soft Hosanna! still burning in ash or heart …

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