Dust

And so we come to plant our feet

At a beginning

Deliberately, carefully turning over

Words like dark soil slipping through fingertips

Dust thou art

Dust like the dry land which will not feed a soul

Dust like the desert road churned by angry feet

Dust, dry, parched.

But then the rain.

Dust becomes a river, a soaked and holy descent

Wave after wave.

Dust thou art, parched, dry,

And to dust you shall return but as those dry bones breathed,

As life breath seen

As new growth green.

We plant our feet and stand.

Remember.

Forty days and fifty, forty steps and twelve brave marchers

Forty thousand particles of dusty messy dust

Becoming life

Through this Lenten offering.

Remember, dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return.