Perfect Practice (A poem about Lent)

Practicing lent

sounds slick.

My gift,

heart-full-of-pride.

My rituals,

my restriction,

my sacrifice.

Then I stretch, throwing

out my arms,

open handed.

Look up,

give up.

Let go,

let up.

Incarnate,

the One who comes

have me.

I let go,

practicing lent.

mhh

Other things on Lent:

Lent: My Agenda or Gods?

To Lent or Not to Lent

What is Lent Anyway, Besides Strange?