This week’s poem in the Catholic Poetry Room is by Cynthia Erlandson.
Ash Wednesday II
“Remember that thou art but dust, and unto dust thou shalt return.” –Genesis 3 :19
“Jesus stooped down and wrote on the ground with his finger.” — John 8: 6
Your enemies, O Christ, shall lick the dust;
Your friends shall gladly wear it, darkly traced
Upon our heads, in token that we must
Return from whence we came: into the crust
Of earth, where all vain works are buried waste.
We’ve offered you our righteous deeds all year,
Forgetful that, to You, they’re straw and stubble
And filthy rags. Today we reappear
To take this ashen cross, once more aware
We’re kneeling here surrounded by our rubble.
As once You wrote in dust with your own finger,
We beg You now to write forgiveness on
Our foreheads. Spare us from your righteous anger;
Replace our gluttony with godly hunger.
Soften and warm our hard, cold hearts of stone.
Let last Palm Sunday’s fronds, now burned to ash,
Brand on our minds the truth that mud and mire
Are what we’re made of. To our mortal flesh,
How merciful is your consuming fire.
Cynthia Erlandson is a poet and fitness professional. Her three collections are These Holy Mysteries, poems for the church year; Notes on Time, a tribute to the themes of time and music; and Foundations of the Cross and Other Bible Stories. Her poems have appeared in The Book of Common Praise hymnal, First Things, The Society of Classical Poets, The Catholic Poetry Room, Modern Age, and elsewhere. She is a Top Four winner of the 2023 Maria W. Faust Sonnet Contest.
