Burning Bush

This pandemic
is teaching me things,
but like all good lessons,
it has also turned me upside-down
like a reflection in a spoon,
and I believe what I am learning now
is not supposed to be kept and unused
like a spare bedroom,
but instead to be a book
resurrected from a tree.
Some days in quarantine
feel like rusted grace,
while others feel
like suffering’s birthplace.
But backwards did not exist
until I stepped forward,
and suffering did not exist
until I moved towards joy.
This world is a ragged kingdom
catching fire,
but most days I only see
land that is holy
like a barefoot Moses
seeing only the Divine
in a mountain of burning bushes.
I’m soaked in the mystery,
flames around me and within me.
I am trying to let the fire
melt away
what has been pretending to be gold–
like committee meetings, emails,
and things that can be bought and sold.
This world is a burning bush,
but before fire destroys,
it molds.

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