Mirror

The morning’s harsh light
And the mirror streaked with dust
Reveal too much of face and soul.
Yesterday’s ashes are washed away.
The lines of mortality remain.
There is another mirror
Framed and fashioned by God’s Love
That gives back the sight of life, not death,
Of splintered spirit made whole,
Of beauty re-created from the broken bits
Of dust from which all come and to which all return
And making them to shine like the stars from which they came.

Lord of all,
As I stand in this Lenten desert,
Bathed in the light of morning
And the light of eternity,
Give me a clear vision of myself,
But temper Truth with Love
So that both I and this barren land may bloom.

-- Kathleen Knaack