June 28, 1844

By Sandra Petree

I was not there.

I did not see the wagon

With its silent burden

Climb the hill

And roll into the town.

I did not hear

The creaking of the wagon wheels,

The horses’ hooves.

I did not see

The tender brothers’ hands reach out

To lift the prophets from the wagon bed,

To bear the husbands through the door,

To lay the sons upon the table there.

I was not there.

I did not share

The anguish of the wives,

The mother’s tears.

More than a hundred thirty years

Have gone.

Zion grows.

Prophets lead. Life goes on.

My time is now,

I was not there.

And yet

I cannot quite forget.