Exodus Shemot / Ignition
Moses said, “I will turn aside and see this great sight. Why is the bush not consumed by its burning?” (Exodus 3:3)
God’s memory burns in capital letters and your doubt is the kindling its million mouths reach for. The generations in your blood are a coral necklace, each bead worn blunt by grinding years, desert blush riding high on the surface.
Your clothed feet, your naked questions can take you to the edge but they have to stop there. The yawning fissure, its ragged depth.
You have to step forward alone, and when you face the flames, history disappears.
You are alone in your body, and the unfurled tongue of God runs up its impossible length.