my job tonight was 
to mix the ashes
and the oil making
from the charred remains
a paste of penitence
the sacred soot stared
from the bottom of
the plate as I poured
olive oil from home
and began to stir
the ashes stuck to
me like skin like they
knew me turning the
lines across my palm
into an ancient
map of heart I looked
as though I had been
digging in the dirt
even now my nails
are outlined by an
ashy shadow a
call to dig a grave
to plant a new bulb
in the same motion
a farmer of faith
Peace,
Milton
Amen.
The very first journey I took with you was Lent, several years ago. Your daily writing cracked something open in me.
I am so grateful, and glad that the journey continues, fear and trembling, death and resurrection. Thank you for your words and their influence on my life.
splendid
Beautiful. I appreciate your writings. This one reminds me of a camp when we shared the Lord’s supper and you asked why do we just take a tiny crumb of bread when it is passed. God offers us so much and it’s like we are afraid of it….”come and see…take and eat…” I think of that moment each time the bread is passed or taken…25+yrs later…
Thankful for you in my journey.