Poetry... assignments...tears...

Why did Abraham, my father,
Desire to have countless children?
More than grains of sand by water,
More than can be embraced; not enough to fulfill:
Did he wish himself, through his off,
“Born again, a child of God?”1
What then? What are we to do,
For our father from the wilderness?
I see myself unwhole, alone,
“And oft o’er my brain does that strange fancy roll:
We live’d, ere yet this robe of flesh we wore,”
Temples we resided in, perfection a someday promise.
But, “if heavy looks should tell me thou art dead,”2
Then I thrown me down to the bottomless wet
With a millstone to “weigh down my spirit.”1
“When we are ready to come to Him,
He comes to us.”3, smile light as gold,
Weighty tears have I earned from Him.
Perhaps my back has been turned
In my search for the one who shares not this world.
I choose now to accept the promise gained
By ancestor Sarah-husband, Isaac-father,
And I wait for my own. I remain a child.




1:Sonnet on Receiving letters (Coleridge)
2: On Receiving a Letter Informing Me of the Birth of a Son (Coleridge)
3: The King Follet Letters (Joseph Smith)