From a Mormon Poet for Poetry Month

3958
seedling

Seedling

This tender stem

Pushed up through scorched earth

Just as the stars were falling.

Yearning sunward

Flayed by solar wind

It unfurled a tiny leaf to depths of space

And exploded a perfect diminutive flower

In exalted realms of light.

 

my prison stone room

 

 

My Prison

It began with ancestral stones
firmly set –
Eons of collective guilt had
built a prison for The Chosen.
A firm foundation
upon which
censure and men’s advances
solidified, kept the hurt out
and me in.
Cloistered with my injuries,
I could contemplate my faith.
Self-denial a sacrament –
to suffer some
with the world’s oppressed – yes.
There’s so much guilt in being free –
Open, choosing to fly,
choosing to dance.

It was the window
that was my prison’s undoing:
God’s grace shining in
found me in a corner.
Friends passing by reached in
and touched me.
I heard (somewhere, laughing)
guiltless voices,
reveling in choices, free to soar.
I took a step – so tentative – and found
just beyond the window
. . . the door.

masada

 

Masada

Color dawns in the desert:

A sun-rose rises in the sand.

It reaches to caress the spring,

Then wilts into the land.

Its life too brief for sharing,

Its blooms by hot wind shaken,

It stood and shone and faded…

Never touched, and never taken.

 

And my life turns from fleeting spring

To face the scorching sun.

I ride the pinnacle of faith

Briefly… then it’s done.

The Romans mount the very wall —

The firmament is shaken!

And like the sun-rose I will die…

Never touched, and never taken.

 

Note:  These poems are copyrighted.

 

Gale Boyd is the managing editor for ThirdHour.org. She is a Jewish convert to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and has lived all over the world. She has raised 6 Third Culture Kids and is always homesick for somewhere.