Shadow

Trace the lines on forehead,

        words of ancient care.

Reminders of our short time,

        words of creation.

Set in signs of death,

        reminding us of death.

Listen close and you will

        hear the shadow of it.

Come upon the youngest,

        in the breath we breathe.

"You are dust, made of stars,

        ash you become and return."

Today remind us of the shade,

        the part we hide, or try.

We confess our pride and our

        want for hate, instead of love.

Grow us into the time

        where we see it spring.

In riots of color born from

        the dark ash on our head.