Poem: “Burning Bush”

When I am
in my mom’s living room I
take off my shoes.
Her 20-year-old green carpet
is holy ground.
 
I could swear that right in the middle,
situated between the loveseat,
the armchair, the rocking chairs,
and the entertainment center—
right in the area where my nephews learned
how to crawl and talk and play—
I could swear there is an
invisible
burning bush.
 
Major things have happened
in my mom’s living room.
Epiphanies.
Confirmations.
Callings.
Holy tears of both
pain and joy.
Relief.
Understanding.
 
There is something there,
something sacred,
in that space.
 
Maybe it is an atmosphere
merely created from
late nights spent in impassioned debate
over the ancient words of Scripture and how
we can interpret them,
we women,
speaking up finally
after epochs of forced silence.
 
Or maybe it’s just something about that
20-year-old green carpet.
 
Either way, I still
take off my shoes.
You never know
when you might
run into God.

© Amy Lutes, 2019.