NONE  SO  BLIND…

Do I not close my eyes, and feel them glaze
because I will them to, and sense the thick
oblivion sludge my mind, for fear I stumble
on burning bushes, taken unawares
by Presence signalled in the wilderness,
and lose, not shoes, but heart?

And all the time a secret knowing probes
and will not let me be,
but burrows, busy, through the opiate layers
of self-inflicted mindlessness,
surfacing sometimes, when worm-castings curl
in quivering question-marks, not to be cast off
by the unquesting eye.

O Wisdom, Key, and all-perceptive Lord,
save me from slumber that is not your gift;
prod me to consciousness, and make me know
the keen imperative of your dark will
urging me onward, though resistance seek
to snuggle back in numbness, shutting out
unquiet dreams, uneasy images.
Rouse me! Cry “Up! Awake!
Your nest’s on fire, but the flames want you!
Welcome their love, be seared,
for in that Bush I burn
yet unconsumed, live on, to kindle you.”

Dorothea Hewlett
          Australia / New Zealand Province
            October 15^th 1998