What we didn’t know
was that our hearts
would burn
within us,
just like their hearts
burned when
The Fire
Spoke
on the road.
Emmaus-bound,
so they thought,
yet really,
like us,
they were
bound to
The Consuming One.
The Word,
Made Flesh, newly spoken,
Remade
by His
Presence,
their
leaden downcast
faces,
their slowness of
Heart,
transforming them into
Glowing Ones who
declared the truth
Of the Risen Bread
Of the Flowing Wine
to doubters,
first
themselves,
led unto
recognizing
Him
by
revelation
Of the Resurrected Word.
What we didn’t know
was that
our hearts,
too,
would find,
in the burning of the dross
hearing afresh
The Refreshing Word,
right in the middle of
Our everydayness,
On the far side of
today,
in our ordinary desert,
A Burning Bush.
Bare-hearted among
such
Holy Ground
Declarations shouted:
I AM who I AM
What we didn’t know
was that
somehow,
The Word
swiftly
burns,
even now all these years later,
With Emmaus unveiling.
All that is not
Holy
is burned up.
The Fire
Invites us
To hearts aflame.
We become
Fire desirers.
O, Burning Wondrous One,
kindle the awareness
Of Your Presence,
In burning bush,
In Word along the road.
Oh, Holy Fire,
Be my desire
here
now
on the eve of Lent
pondering how bright the Word glows
if I’ll let You consume all that is not of You.
Let me be
ever turning aside,
at bush or
along some
new Emmaus road,
to notice
Holy Fire burning:
Three-in-one: Father, Son, Spirit.
