was it quiet there on the mountain, Moses,
as the children of Israel held their breath
and you saw the green sweep of the promised land
that you could not enter — and waited for death?
did you feel regret on the mountain, Moses,
for the moment of passion that led you astray
when in anger you struck the stumbling stone
for the donkey-necked people would never obey?
yet God met you there on the mountain, Moses,
the dearest of Friends bearing one final grace —
was the moment you slipped from this world to forever
the instant you clearly saw Him face to face?
