God, I can just see them there
listening to Jesus preach
that mighty Saturday sermon –
Sarah and Hagar leaning in to each other
on a dusty old pew.
Ruth is hand in hand with both
Boaz and Mahlon,
like children at a sunday school picnic,
but she has eyes only for Naomi.
Absalom with his amazing hair,
untangled from the oak tree,
desalinated Lot’s wife, Ham, Bilhah,
Rahab with her red cord,
Cyrus of Persia,
and a prostitute’s baby whose true home
was Solomon’s judgment call —
they are next to John the Baptist,
who hasn’t been gone that long.
We see David and Jonathan,
Elijah reunited with the widow
he liked so well,
Saul, Samuel and the witch,
an eternal triangle,
Miriam and Moses’ wife, not quite BFFs —
but no room for prejudice in hell.
Most of them have names
we do not know and never will –
but they were some daddy’s baby,
some grandma’s pride —
best at the hundred yard dash
through the Red Sea,
singing psalms, stamping grapes,
till they were called in
for a bedtime story of long ago.
They are all listening
like the people we love who have died,
hearts hanging on his every word,
like their death depends on it.