“From dust you came and to dust
you shall return.” Empty powder
blown into a strong wind.
A hollow city steeped in darkness,
lifeless shell of a kingdom
with no energy to even let itself burn.
Tears streaked in grey and brown,
stomach barren and eyes raw,
sitting in sackcloth and despair.
Grey memories mix with black earth.
Your grief is fertile ground,
rising with no place left to fall.
All welcome in the Holy of Holies
now. Serve with hands smelling
like His, a fragrant offering.
On the altar, only ashes remain.