Matthew 3.13 - An Ash Wednesday Lament

Matthew 3.13
An Ash Wednesday Lament

This is the season of ashes.
Of confession,
of mourning.
So I wonder why I find you
beside me
here at the riverside.
Why are you,
of all people,
seeking this bath of remorse?
This washing of guilt?
This immersion of grief?
What sits heavy
upon your heart?
What sins?
And what need for repentance?
Was it that baby
who died in her mother's arms last night?
Or that queer boy
bloodied and crying on his playground?
Or that woman
hushed, bruised, and still in the pew?
Are you here
to say you are sorry?
For these?
Or for the rest?
And what of me?
Why am I here
stripped, naked
and seeking the water?
Because I hold
resentment
and pain,
squeezing that sharp glass in my hand
until it bleeds.
Because I am angry with you.
I'm so sorry,
but I am angry with you.
And yet,
here you are,
willing to be baptized,
to follow me deep
into the wet coolness.
Let us, then, hold hands
our bloody hands
and go down together.
To drown
and rise up
to a new beginning.
You and I.
Clean.
And forgiven.