First Sunday in Lent

FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT

Winter wears a frozen face
the snow creaks ash gray in old age
withers and shrivels
baring the skeleton of earth.
The daily chore of waking on these cold morning days
weighs us down
and work closes in on every side.
School is scarcely more than half over
and the long stretch is still to come
with fifteen maybe twenty false Springs.
TV shows are tasteless to our hibernating minds
and radio plays the same songs over and over again
the routine
the sameness has dulled the edge of Christmas and New Years.

To look outside
one cannot even find
the consolation that nature is wont to offer
barren lifeless trees hold up a low gray sky
sidewalks of ice and snow
gravel-covered ridges dressed with the wastes
of cars and factories and heating plants
and the grass that has pushed through is brown and matted.

So here we are in the middle of it
taken in both by false Springs
and false revolutions
still waiting for the real thing
frozen cold and still with fear
the revolutionary dreams dying--
both Winter and revolution have gotten out of hand.

We are no match for nature
nor the dreams of our fellow men.
Consider Chairman Jesus.

And so to Lent
coming not by chance in the second semester of life
it would have us face this fact by fasting
have us strip away all the dreams on which we gorge ourselves
have us discover the coldness inside
the icy hearts.

For you see
even our drugstore revolutionaries
would say it takes a lot of preparation
not a lot of waiting.