your ashes still on my heart
secular beings
monks to the premise
solitude is serenity to some
the lucky ones
married to a theory of abstinence
i became your Lent
but i thought that was only temporary
40 days, 40 nights
now i am your Passover
you are not my serenity
solitude is feeling so alone
in a mass of people,
the good book lies open
pages fluctuating in a dark breeze
the candles nearly burnt out
and i am out of prayers
for your return,
i am Lent
365 days a year,
trying to remember if there ever was
an Easter Sunday.
erin-cilberto
3/8/18