He spoke of silently weeping
after he had climbed to the top of Mount Sinai
and witnessed the rising of the sun
quickly light up the sky
in a splash of vermilion.
He told tales of slowly wading
into the muddy, reedy waters of the Jordan
standing as He did and baptized as He was
in those hallowed waters,
though, this time for the experience.
He recalled solemnly watching
as bodies moved to and from the Western Wall,
those silent – and loud – pray-ers who offered up
their petitions to God, who
no doubt listened intently.
Once, I visited my grandmother
after a long absence, and
as we silently sat in her room,
I held her hand.
I can confidently say, this:
I was closer to God.