Ash Wednesday Poem by John Agandin

The day and the hour draws nigh
When all shall return to Him
Who did form them of word and clay
And did give to all His own breath
And set them upon the earth to tend
And to possess it for a time.
Before him, all shall stand
Bare, silent, helpless.
Fear, you sons of men, tremble!
Fall prostrate before Him.
Shred the malice of your heart
And drop that haughty look
For of all nails that did stab Him;
That vain look is most piercing.
For what are thou, son of man?
A puff of smoke, wisp of air, dust
That lingers but for a moment
And vanishes without trace.
Why do you now risk His wrath?
And court His just fury?
Take this ash upon the brow
Bend your knee and look not up
But hasten to declare your fault
And wail in lamentation:
"Spare us, O master!
For our guilt is heavier
Than ever we can bear"