Burning Bush, Guest Post from India and Aotearoa New Zealand

Two poets who often correspond with me have sent poems, both called “Burning Bush” The photograph is also from Dayalan Devanesen of Chennai, India who sent the first poem and the second poem is by Heather Kelly from Invercargill, Aotearoa New Zealand. She is currently sheltering in place in Waikiwi. These people do not know each other and yet in this time of pandemic they looked out their windows and into their hearts and found this depth of hope.


The street was on fire
Blazing Gol Mohur blossoms
Bloomed red along the avenue
The flames consumed the landscape
With fiery passion
Leaping joyfully
At the pale blue sky.
From this burning bush
Rings out the eternal words


Heavy overnight rain changed
the weeping maple from magenta
to flame coloured orange,
a burning bush.

Led me to the Exodus,
(years since I had read the Torah,
less since the Alphacrux’s study).

But there in The Call of Moses
was the promise;
“I will be with you”.

In the same conversation,
the statement “I am who
I am”.

Our God lives!
We are not alone;
there is hope!

This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Burning Bush, Guest Post from India and Aotearoa New Zealand

  1. Barrie Shepherd says:

    todays burning bushes reminded me of one of my own.
    Barrie Shepherd
    Epiphanies Variegated

    Every bush may be ablaze with God
    as Elizabeth Barrett claimed so famously,
    but not every bush is also blessed,
    along its bending branches,
    by glossy, plump, and August-ripened blackberries.
    The poet didn’t have much good to say for berry picking,
    flat-out accusing most of us of sitting
    round that burning bush and helping ourselves
    to sweet, seductive fruit oblivious
    to the incandescent miracle.
    But the Book itself said nothing about berries.
    And if there had been brambles –
    I mean out in the wilderness like that –
    they surely would have seemed, suspended there,
    so downright sacred, ripe to bursting with the purple,
    sour-sweet tang of summer’s heat and rain and sunlight,
    I’d be prepared to lay a bet that even stammering,
    shoeless Moses would reach out at least one eager hand –
    finger and thumb – to gather in a palm cup full, then cram
    them eagerly between his desert-dry, parched lips
    and wonder at the ripeness to be found
    in life that darkens, through a daily, earthy glory,
    to a fullness feeds a multitude of hungers,
    yet, for all that, never is consumed.
    O taste and see…

    J. Barrie Shepherd

  2. Maren says:

    Lovely! Thank you Barrie.
    This would be mine:
    For Gerard and Elizabeth

    I always think it’s plucking
    the blackberries
    that gets me closest, even
    scratched, by the glory of God,

    and wrapping the foil around
    a child’s lunch
    is as shook
    as the holy spirit can be for me.

    This is the grandeur of the thing
    afire with wings —
    it is bent down
    and crammed over-full
    with wild ordinary wonder.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s