On the Mountain

It’s often just a small detail in the shiny story
about Jesus and the mountain  –
getting to talk to folks
who have been gone a long time.

I would like Harriet Tubman, please,
that Moses
to walk and talk with me.
I want Langston Hughes,
dreams deferred in a still small voice.

Heck, I want Mark Twain,
Shakespeare and Emily Dickinson,
Susan B. Anthony, Cesar Chavez,
and Rosa Parks.

Not gone so long,
but our valleys want to eavesdrop
on John Lewis
and Ruth Bader Ginsberg.

I promise not to hold on
to these remarkable visitors –
(I gave up booth-building
a long time ago.)

My Mama wasn’t famous, of course,
though she laid down the law.
Her prophesies were the simple ones –
more snow or early spring,

and what would make a child happy.

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3 Responses to On the Mountain

  1. bookgirl says:

    I love this so much. –Wendy

  2. Reblogged this on A Poet's Vision and commented:
    WOW!! Love this so much goood-ness here…

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