Thursday, May 12, 2005


Sometimes like ashes, Lord,
the words I want to say
dry up,
blow away in the dust,
and I am left here,
yet longing to cry out,
to say help me
to say teach me
to cry out for mercy
to give you my gratitude.

O Lord,
I know you ever keep me in the palm of your hands -
in the dust of my silence,
I offer you the ashes,
and know that this too
is your gift.


Susan E. Stone, 2005


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