That Much


That Much

The dried palm of my life
burns to ash.
You mark me like Cain.
A wet cross on my head
says plain as day:


I wipe it off.

I don’t want
to need you
that much.

But I do.

I sneak out to meet you at night,
give back what I stole, expect to be stoned.
I am the hypocrite demoniac child,
awakened from sleep, called from the grave, found by the sea.
I gave no greeting, no kiss, except in the garden,
but you knew that I would
and still washed my feet.
I loved you and lied,
yet you look in my eyes,
see the ashes imposed on my forehead.


Credits and references:
“Preparing Ashes” (banner) by Fr Lawrence Lew, O.P. Used with permission.
“Palm Cross” by Colin Paterson. Used with permission.
“That Much” by Esther Hizsa
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2017.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2017.

About Esther Hizsa

Esther is a spiritual director and writer. She lives in Burnaby with her husband, Fred, and they have two grown children and two grandchildren.
This entry was posted in Lent, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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