Her name was Miss Moses

She had a history of psychosis 

She was known to talk to bushes

And she’d spent many years living on couch cushions

She wore a beanie in the summertime

And that was the only thing – sometimes 

Words weren’t her strength 

She’d be seen waving a wooden staff when she’d drink 

My mind was preoccupied as I was coming out of the grocery store 

Our paths crossed and she asked what I was worried for 

For some reason, I was frozen in my tracks

I didn’t give second thought to the groceries in my bags

She had an Egyptian-like tone 

She told me I’m not alone 

I’d been thinking about all the mean things people have told me 

Patronizing remarks and incisive words

All said so unsolicited and yet so boldly 

In a professional setting 

The woman read my mind and said, “Yeah, this life can be upsetting

Hard things are ahead, so there’s a place I always go

There’s something by now you ought to know: the truth”

She told me she’d spent many years as a sleuth

And found that people get rattled by things that aren’t even real

“Like clothes and UFOs”
And people think they themselves are unworthy

They live their lives in such a hurry”

I’d dropped some blueberries

I hadn’t decided if I thought this woman was scarey 

I gripped the mace that was in my pocket – just in case

As some grasshoppers appeared and the sun came out 

The bumps on my skin and hers seemed to dissipate 

She told me to follow her, not to wait 

I left the blueberries but brought the chocolate cake 

The woman led me to a forest behind the grocery store

I thought I’d end up in a Dateline episode, for sure 

She told me to not look so afraid 

There was a well-trod dirt path 

I heard her laugh 

The dirt path among the ferns and foliage was long 

We reached a bonfire and she said, “You know, you belong”

I recognized a man by the fire, he worked at the grocery store 

He said, “Just to sit by this fire, I never wanted more”

The woman’s face glowed an orangey-red 

“This is how God feels about you,” she said, pointing to that massive fire 

She said, “We just left the Egyptians – everyone at the store and its outskirts”
She said, “I know you think this life hurts”

And then I heard an explosion from where we’d come 

I felt numb

The grocery store was on fire 

I looked at Miss Moses, who didn’t even perspire

She said not to worry, everyone inside had a chariot 

That day I got as close as anyone could ever get – to Miss Moses 

She was found not guilty by reason of psychosis 

She was arrested while eating chocolate cake 

But she’d told me she was a type 1 diabetic, I think 

She didn’t believe in diabetes either 

She told me the world was screwed up but that God was eager 

And I guess I followed her to get some insight 

Even though I knew she wasn’t all-right 

But she got it right that we’re in captivity 

And she expressed the story aptly – that God beckons us to leave 

He loves us, like those yellow-red burning leaves