The soil says that we are dust;
In dust and soil we stand.
A voice from in the wilderness
Calls out, Prepare the way…
In dust a child lays its head,
In sawdust whittles wood
And takes on ash and dust for us
And washes in the sea.
In ash and dust we wait for you;
Our soiled souls now wait.
You take our ash, you take our dust
And wash us as you bleed.
The Consolations of Writing 