That I am flesh means
I ought not stand
to close to the Fire.
Yet I am called nearer to Glory
than I can bare.
My brother bore the brunt,
but even so I am seared.
My gentle weaknesses,
forsed to be formidable,
collapsed before the Calf
and the cries of the people.
Then he returned.
So, I wait, just to the side,
but a little step behind
Him
to watch their procession pass into the Promise,
while we, denied, wait here to die
on the fringes of our desire.
I, knowing, still, that Moses
will remain in their memory,
while I dissappear into
wind and sand,
always the sand.
Near at hand, the Fire
in the unconsumed bush
burns no more.