Here in my home state of Oregon, wildfires have become enormously destructive the past few weeks and caused many to flee their homes. I’ve been meditating this week on two related images: the burning bush (which in traditional iconography is seen as a symbol of Mary) and the flight of the Holy Family to Egypt. This poem is written on behalf of, and mostly from the perspective of, all those who must flee home – whether because of war, wildfire, or any other danger.
Flight to Egypt
The world is burning —
at least my small
corner of it.
In the smoldering dark,
I kneel before a memory
of a young bush, mantled
in flame.
Then, I will glide
silently through the sleeping
house, look attentively
as I never do, and think
to myself, “What to bring?
What to leave?”
And find
there is almost nothing
truly irreplaceable.
You will outlast us.
Sometimes, I can say
nothing more definite
than this, that the tide
of fire and time will rise
and fall, rise and fall
and You the continental
shelf beneath.
No world will ever
end, but that Yours
begins again.
O Mother, who fled
with child at night,
flee with us.
O Fire she took
within herself,
mantle us.
Let it be enough
that we yield before
what we cannot comprehend,
that we gathered up
our selves and went,
without despair.
May we too
find ourselves
coursing new paths
by moonlight,
meeting Your eye
with adoration:
wreathed everywhere in flames
but not consumed.