Faith crisis poetry

Ashes to Ashes

  1. Thrown into the fire, and what remained was charred.
  2. Tossed onto the pyre, before the angel guard.
  3. Gold nor silver waiting; just dross consumed by flame.
  4. Fining pot ablating, now only ash remain.
  5. Dust lay still and silent, untouched by trump or key.
  6. Arm of flesh not stirring, no tongue or bow-ed knee.
  7. Then a hand thrust downward, into the ash, a pole,
  8. Forming a new creature, breathed into it a soul.

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By Kim Siever

I live in Lethbridge with my spouse and 4 of our 6 children. I’m a writer, focusing on political news, social issues, and the occasional poem. My politics are radically left.

I’m also dichotomally Mormon. And I’m a functional vegetarian: I have a blog post about that somewhere around here. My pronouns are he/him, and I’m queer.

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