Lent

I have marked the season of Lent every year now for quite a few years. I have given up various things over the years in an effort to fast from something as a way to mark Jesus' death and denial of self. This year has been a little different. I have still given up some things for Lent, but this year the season has taken on a slightly different meaning. Lent is not only about fasting, it's also about feasting. Yes, it's marked by death and denial, but it's also about resurrection and life and beauty and reawakening. So, this year, I have noticed myself feasting as well as fasting. Interestingly, the feasting has come almost by accident. I did not set out to feast on anything in particular, but somehow organically (through the working of the Holy Spirit?) I have been feasting on music and poetry. I listen to music a lot, mostly on Spotify. But during this Lent, I have been really drawn to hymns, to songs of lament and Scripture. I have also been reawakened to the beauty of poetry. I started following this one woman on Instagram who posts one or two poems every day of Lent. I have been enjoying her read alouds so much! There's something about the simplicity and emotion of poetry that is so different than reading books. Below, is one of my favourite poems thus far during Lent:
God's beloved dust,
fabric of the universe-
of planets newly discovered
and ruins ancient, broken
and us.
God's beloved dust,
we'll walk into wilderness
on a Wednesday-
a wilderness of words
and want
and wonder,
a wilderness for the wise
and the weary.
God's beloved dust,
ushered from pew to pastor,
the will pause.
Eyes averted
or closed
or resolute in meeting mine,
an awkward encounter
breaking the boundary of space-
to touch another's face
and to mark it mortal.
God's beloved dust,
thumb to forehead,
brokenhearted,
breaking with tradition,
I will say
to God's beloved dust-
...Remember you are God's beloved dust
and to God's beloved dust you shall return.
And we will watch and wait
to witness what God can do
with God's beloved dust.
(Austin C. Shelley)