Holy Ground (a poem)

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How often have I 
failed to notice
the bushes
the trees
the grass
the fields
ablaze 
yet not consumed?

How often have I 
failed to hear
the rustling
the wind
the whisper
the voice 
calling
yet not audible?

How often have I 
failed to feel
the soil
the dirt
the ground
the earth
holy 
yet not different?

All trees are burning
All winds are speaking
All ground is holy

Yet,
do I not
notice?

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