Perfect Practice (A poem about Lent)

Practicing lent

sounds slick. My gift,

heart-full-of-pride. My rituals,

my restriction, my sacrifice.

Then I throw out my arms, open-handed.

Looking up,
giving up.
Let go, let up.


the One who comes
have me. I let go,

practicing lent.

2 thoughts on “Perfect Practice (A poem about Lent)

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