Monday, 20 June 2016

Moses and the burning bush

Aged now I sit here
the withered bush beside me
in the wind
crinkles as if on fire

and a young maid came by and by
and sat beside me
knowing her I said hello
aghast she turned and fled

I realized then she had been a stranger
except the wind
the sun and the sound
of the bush beside me
clouded my mind and made me think
of another maid with whom once I did sit
and we spoke
and her hand resting near her right thigh
and my hand resting near my left thigh
did touch
little finger to little finger
and my heart burst
and I have carried that flame
through the years — the way the tallest mountain
carries ice all year round
and the ice catches all sunlight
and imprints the mind
with hope
and joy
for things that may never be

and only when we come into an old age
do we accept that vision
and bear no ill will to what has and has not
happened along the way.

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