Asbury
Here, observances
won’t happen.
Snow and wind
paint the earth.
Stubbornly,
this morning,
cleaning the wood burner,
though no sprinkle,
no forehead mark,
but smudges on hands
and pants
and fine soot
marked me.
Divisions
separate.
Beliefs
clash and rage.
Stubbornly,
a chapel gathering
creatively,
unscripted,
quiet,
joyous,
drew students
and visitors,
a sign
that fire
still burns.
The wind can still mark.
Indeed: the fire still burns.
And now that I finally bumped up against the events at Asbury, I had to come back and read this again. One of the downsides (?) of not watching the news and staying away from social media is that I’m sometimes behind the curve. It’s all very interesting.