American Christians Visit Mt. Nebo

We had only cameras 
and yearning, but the wind rasped 
stone like a hot tongue 
and cameras and yearning 
were not enough to savor the ripening 
along the Jordan, the salt sea, 
that bitter Wilderness wind 
and the candescent wafer 
of the sun. We entered 
the chapel, hoping for respite, ease, 

relief. There were nearly perfect 
mosaics to photograph, and we marveled 
how men, bending arthritic knees, thumbed 
each chip against cement to fill 
the hunger of silence and waiting 
for visitation. We craved hard 
with our minutes but heard 
only the grazing air soughing 
between the sun and these soothing 
arrangements in stone.