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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