Ash Wednesday--Standing in Line

(Last year I wrote this poem about my experience on Ash Wednesday--and included it on my blog. It says what I want to say this Ash Wednesday.)

I stand in a long and winding line.

In some ways I’ve been standing here

  all my life

  waiting, waiting my turn.

I remember my terror waiting in line

  to get that shot in school.

I remember waiting in line with all the

  other scouts hoping to be picked to play.

I remember that line when, in cap

  and gown, I reached out for my diploma.

There have been so many lines—waiting to

  get baptized, to get my driver’s license,

  to get married—to wait with all

   the other men for the Doctor to come

   and say: “It’s a girl...”

All my life, it seems I have been waiting

   in some line.

Sometimes scared, sometimes bored—

  sometimes excited.

And today I stand waiting in yet another line.

Waiting for what?

 I do not rightly know.

To have someone mark my forehead

  with a smudge.

To hear those painful words: “Dust thou art

  and to dust you shall return.”

To remember moments ago we penitents prayed

  together: “Have mercy upon me O God...”

To move away marked by a smudged cross—

That wherever I go and whatever I do—

 I will remember that I will be

   kept

   or carried

   or loved

   or just forgiven.

And so, I stand in this long line waiting.