Brinda Newkirk

Upon reaching

we stand

hand in hand

at Ben Barker's 

grave site,

we hear

the stillness of

  nothing

through your 

  preaching

we hear

the preacher's

voice ring

out over the hilltop

we see

limp boards

tin-soldier style

transform into

  church benches

your teaching

  we feel

  soul in soul

  life then

  life now

upon reaching

we stand

   hand in hand