My Private Sinai

You know how
one thing leads to another,
how way leads on to way?
How I find myself
in this place and a face
coming to mind,
the same face every time?
I am ungathered from sleep,
imprinting on that first word,
first song, first memory
cracking the threshold
of still another day.
How I stumble, breathless
at the threshold,
regard myself pacing
into my own Sinai, scanning,
scanning for the burning bush,
compelled each morning
to turn aside, take off my shoes,
for once again I am on
holy ground.

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