A Bush Can Only Burn So Long

I removed my shoes when I heard your voice, and by bare feet I was led.

My blisters became my tether to you like the flickering flames overhead.

Back then you used my mother's voice and called my name, but I heard "Asher" instead,

and from that point I felt a boiling in my gut and when I spoke my throat glowed red.

My pastor told me to find you in my recovered memories, but I found silence instead,

and so as I tied my shoes I remembered something my father had once said,

"A bush can only burn so long

A bush can only burn so long

A bush can only burn so long before that bush is dead."