Our poem has gone in some interesting directions, but is staying true to the ideas of fire and rain/water. As of 7 p.m. central time tonight, we have eight contributors, and the current version with all contributions included is below.
Fire and Rain
By @gyoung9751, @doallas, @poemsandprayers, @BibleDude, Russell Holloway (@LuvStomp), Lorrie, @Anne4JC, and @llbarkat.
The bush consumed by fire,
yet not; the sands singed
by heat, yet sanctified by
flames, becoming
too holy to be trod upon as the rain begins.
Rain begins:
Drops as rivulets marked by hope-steps.
each leading to the bush
consumed yet not
becoming yet not
the path He trod before us.
We have stepped into
the intersection of fire
and rain
of yet-to-be Passion
the path to Light
deep
as black of night,
steps to take unsure.
Gray slush-mix
of want and not,
of looking not finding,
of seeing but missing
the one true place
of protection
from the elements
Each drop of rain
each speck in the eye
unseeing,
the flames
what they consume,
the secrets buried in the bush
in the sand pulling us in.
As we are called
and make bare our feet
our faces we cover
from sight of glory.
Standing drenched by rain
waiting, wanting, shivering
praying for the warmth
of the crackling fire
that seems so far away.
To stand
To make ready
Move forward
Shoulder to shoulder.
Yet our lips dare
part to speak
from stammering
hearts unworthy.
What magic this
from you, my Lord,
that in my heart burns
passion for Your Word.
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.
Flames lick, stick
to skin, breathe black
smoke of secret long held,
yes, buried, as we said before,
invoking time’s goodbye,
dust in ashes will yet
find…
Precious store:
Word on stone
Stone-writing
The long pilgrimage
In bare feet.
How rain cleansed,
drops hit lips,
skin breathed
awake its secret.
- Poets and Poems: Alfred Nicol and “After the Carnival” - May 8, 2025
- Poets and Poems: Kelly Belmonte and “The Mother of All Words” - May 6, 2025
- An Anthology on Reading and Writing Poetry - May 1, 2025
nancy says
an angel
a bush of fire
burning my heart
stiring my desire
to see
to be
to have what i have not
within me ever
near me
head spinning
chest pounding
i throw down the staff
Monica Sharman says
I throw down my all
dust of me on dust
of ground
hallowed ground
because of His life
in my dying,
surrender and dying,
then we are both raised
Louise says
And through the fire
the alchemy of love
brought forth
the gold
from dust created.
Diane says
Born of the burning
in the heat of His passion,
released from this night-dark stable
we rise anew,
becoming One
with Heaven and with Earth;
becoming Light.