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Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning



Thursday, February 14, 2013

Ash Wednesday

the smoke curls gently
up
from a scene of devestation
this once was a town
a house

this once was a place
a thing 
of beauty
and yet now 
twisted and smoldering
blacked

the smoke rises from what 
once was
you cannot enter
this place
this place of ruin
and death

without being touched
by ashes
which cling
and mark
leaving us dirty

a sign
of our uncleanliness
and our participation
in what has happened here
this creation
of a wasteland
that we call earth

and yet
this day
these ashes
mark us

not as those who do not see
not as those who do not feel the pain 
of this destruction
not as those who do not repent
not as those who do not hope

but as those
who, while marked
who look forward
toward the rising
of the 
son

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