from dust
am I become

of You
am I
in image
seen

of Word
I see
in flames

if words
be consumed

as flames,
Passion

No, my Lord.
Your fire does not consume
the bush but burns my heart.

I have found myself in this staff,
I c,c,can’t return.
I ‘m only a lowly shepherd,
this is my rod, this is my place.

Please send s,s,someone else, not me.

I have heard the cries of My people
Their tears have fallen like rain,
I will be with you
Now go.

stone-writing
the long pilgrimage
in bare feet

how rain cleansed
drops hit lips
skin breathed
awake its
secret

It fills me, drives me
It makes me new
Til it can’t be contained
From me spills out You

And in the pouring out
Of what burned bright
It becomes living Water
Cool fresh and Light