The Bush is Always Burning…

The Burning Bush, by clinock. 12.5 x 17.5″. Chalk pastel and conte on paper. 2012










Poem by Rabbi Yael Levy

Whose gaze am I willing to meet?
Certainly the azalea bushes,
Ablaze in yellow and red.
Absolutely the cherry blossoms
Whose pink and white petals remain luminescent even as they fall.
And the lilacs give me no choice
Their scent reaches out
Even before I approach.

I turn aside to look.

But what about the man in the subway
Smelling of urine and weeks worth of grime?
Or the woman clutching her baby
In whose hand I place a one dollar bill?

I avert my gaze and turn away.

Today I inadvertently lifted my eyes.
First I saw a red wheelchair
And pants tucked around half a leg.
Then my gaze met another
He smiled a wide, knowing grin
And gave me a thumbs up as he rolled himself by.

The bush is always burning
Will I turn aside and look?

Tiferet: Brokenness in Beauty.
The cracks of Divinity
That allow the light to shine through.
A radiant glory permeates all creation
Will I risk the pain and joy of a broken heart
To turn aside and look?



Entering, by clinock. 8.5 x 12″. Acrylic on paper. 2012

This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and attend them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. ~Rumi