Pedometer attached to her belt, your mother, spry and strong
at eighty, joins the other Methodist Church members
in calculating the 5, 915 miles, no matter the weather, to add up
all the way from Linesville, Pennsylvania to Jerusalem.
They need not worry about miracles or pausing
at the signs of the cross.  They need not stop for security
to check their purses for weapons.  They need no visa
nor baggage, no money to exchange for shekels, no guide-
book, no guide.  They need no ancient tongue or prophecies.
They are, simply, day by day, walking, mile after mile: 
from the sink to the table, uptown to the post office, down
the block to visit the sick neighbor.  Sundays to and from church.
And when they walk far enough, adding up their pedometers
together, they will arrive in Jerusalem.  And keep walking.

From Our Portion: New and Selected Poems (Autumn House Press, 2015). Copyright © 2015 by Philip Terman. Used with permission of the author.