Dust: a love poem

Ash Wednesday, 02.17.21

“In any instant the sacred may wipe you with its finger. In any instant the bush may flare, your feet may rise, or you may see a bunch of souls in trees.”
— Annie Dillard, For The Time Being

We are told today to remember, and wisely so: You are dust,
and unto dust you will return. This as we dip a finger into oil and ash,