The shape of the promise is death
Say the word, feel the space, build the coffin in your mouth
Climb inside and make it yours
For it is
That tomb washed white, emerges in life, enslaves in death, watches the end
agape
Expiration exorcism, cast the spirit, cast it low;
Cast your eyes and feel the blow
Cast the lots
Carve the promise into your bones, your forehead
Let your face shine with Moses glory: that of the immortal God
–that suffering, dying, ashen glory-story
May your face shine with Ash
As you wear the world’s judgment embedded in your skin, in your body,
May you feel the world’s death in your face, may you hold it before your eyes
May the flame that licked the palm find its end in you.
Bear the flame the world shall never know, precisely so it never will
Take their judgment and rub it on our faces and cast it to proclaim
Lift up your eyes
Wear it loud
The shape of the promise is death
[read my other Holy Day poetry here]
all writings licensed: 
the long way home 