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Golem on Ash Wednesday

Published on:
March 6, 2019
Read time:
1 min.
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       As the dead of winter dies

the ground, smothered in snow, thaws

melting into mire and mud. There

in the clay You see my unmade substance

You mold my limbs

Your finger scratches 

my forehead with ashes 

branding Truth between my eyes.


    I dress myself in brittle leaves 

and wander Chicago St. alone

drunk at eleven thirty-something.

My bones burn like a firebrand, my throat 

with cheap whiskey.   I sit on a 

bench on Walton Island:

          I am the king of a kingdom of thimbles,

          I am the vulture of a far-off wilderness.

          I am an evening shadow and when


You wipe my forehead clean

my body will crumble to the floor:

From dust you came,

And dust you shall return.

Tommy Welty
Tommy Welty is married to Alyssa. Their son Atticus was born the summer before Go Set a Watchman was published. Tommy and his family live in Liverpool where they are missionaries. His writing and poetry has been featured at Christ and Pop Culture, The Curator, Rock & Sling, and on NPR’s All Things Considered. Follow him on Twitter @tommywelty.

Cover image by Grant Whitty

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