Ash Wednesday

From the February 1996 Print Edition

Fingernails scrubbed clean as latrines in the army, this symbol of a man dirties his thumb with our skin, the powdery ash riding high on his pores, not sinking in before he sketches the gray of our dirt-birth across a brow we were born to furrow. Listen to the sound of forgiveness: the crossing of . . . . Continue Reading »

Holy Unction

From the February 1996 Print Edition

I "Give me oil in my lamp, keep me burning, burning, burning," we belted out on the Baptist church bus bound for Camp Born Again, refueled forever we knew for the faith with the oil of the holy. Hallelujah! II Through the cracked, creaky bedroom door of Aunt Martha's farmhouse, we watched the . . . . Continue Reading »