by Jane Tawel
Dust and Rain
By Jane Tawel
February 24, 2023
*
Sitting here,
watching the birds in their feathered drab raincoats,
pick through the dust for worms.
The lovely, longed-for rain has come.
*
Yet I recall
that all and all is gone
or almost gone.
Faith fades like light in shallowed dusk.
And you have left,
and you and you and you.
*
And I will leave soon, too.
And this time, I will leave (I hope) for Good.
I’m sorry — please forgive me —
that I so little valued Time
and little valued you, and you, and you,
’til all, or almost all, were gone.
*
Oh, what are memories,
but fallow, shallow-laid dust?
Yes, we are but from dust
and to the dust shall we return.
And one can only hope,
The Wind will carry us.
*
Perhaps The Wind,
The Wind of rain and dust,
will carry us,
to land upon the future,
and sting some other’s eyes.
Perhaps my dust will settle down,
to meld with other dust,
and rain will form us into mud,
to nurture living things.
Or might my dust,
light softly on my dear ones’ heads,
as off they tread to the party,
to dance and laugh
and remember sometimes,
that though we are but dust,
Love is what we’re made of, too.
*
Some say it’s never over;
that one becomes one plus One
to equal more than just this particle of dust.
And some can bide their Time
until the ooze of Earth has passed,
and Time is blown into Eternity,
like so much dust.
And some can find a way,
to shape dust into clay,
and mold the hours of now
into something worthy of Love.
*
But I am just a little thing,
not much at all,
not more than just this speck.
And yet I have been loved.
And yet I have so loved.
*
I don’t know much of anything.
but for today,
as I sit here,
the lovely, lovely, needed rain,
will have to be enough.
© Jane Tawel, 2023.
- ** This past Wednesday I was able to partake in what for me is still one of the meaningful rites and “passages” in a lunar calendar, Ash Wednesday. This poem may have been inspired by the ancient teaching in the Genesis story and the beginning of profound humbling as to who we are and to what we can possibly hope for from a SomeOne/ Something that chooses to communicate to even dust. (Genesis 3:19: “And God said to Adam, from dust I created you and to dust you shall return.” )
Jane Tawel 