February 25, 2009

Ash Wednesday

Didn't drink my orange juice this morning,
then I didn't finish running and then
forgot my son plucked the deodorant from my duffel,
then stuck it is his mouth, trucked down the hall
gurgling "vroom-vroom," then lost his wares within his room.
I don't know where it is. So I didn't put it on.
On this holy day of fasting, my lunch was rice and beans.
Didn't eat them though. I absentmindedly left them
under the front seat of my car, and my wife drove away with them.
Didn't watch the musical, the babysitter brought my son
and he brought his tired fights (but not the deodorant I needed).
Once sleeping I took him home, and then
the phone rang with questions and concerns that
racked my head until the silence of the imposition.

Something to remember.

But then, I didn't eat all day and we don't have money
to eat with friends at fast-food places. Only spaces
in the checkbook filled with obligations. And I'm guessing
I won't make love tonight, my wife looks droopy eyed, maybe
from the solemn candlelight, or the grinding gears of life.
And so with sleep it seems, my season has begun
as choiceless denial, dictated and dry. It didn't renew me.
So this Lent, I'm giving up on taking it. Giving up on sitting in it.
Giving a Holy middle finger to excuses, to the thing I "must" do.
Waking up tomorrow, I'll make the choice to choose.