The Burning Bush

I remember

how it was to burn

as others

assumed

I was not

consumed,

my steaming

roots steady

in the underworld,

holding up

mountain and all

her smoky speech

 

Eventually

my flame

burnt out

when no one

was looking

or needed me

as justification

for their power

while I

once again

became ordinary

charred reamins,

compost of

purpled berries

browned letters

bare branched

rooted

wonder