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 once upon a time

Ashes to ashes, priest thumb pressed
against my forehead. Smearing blackness
of doubt into my  mind.
Is this charade of oneness supposedly
including me in the spirit of lent.
I have no sense of inclusiveness, in
this charade of belonging .
By smearing blackness into my mind
I know, that always I will resort to being me.
The season of lent will not leave me bereft
I will remain always casting aside the beliefs
Of youth.  I reject this sense   of oneness.
This priestily  blackness smearing my mind.
Today, this ash Wednesday, I will as always,
keep on, keeping on  in my sense of, I am, who I am.

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