November 4–10 ❘ After the Battle
After the Battle
It was a mercy my father died quickly,
released from pain of old wounds
never healed. I hid and watched
the Lamanites celebrate all night.
Without an outward enemy,
they would soon turn on each other.
I found no peace in the land,
so I bore my burden northward
for miles and miles alone.
Let me begin again. Please don’t
condemn my strange, imperfect words.
It’s been so long since I spoke
to anyone who wasn’t a ghost.
But I have seen what you will do—
acting history from a worn-out script,
ignoring my whispered prompts
from the wings. I cry louder and louder
till I wake. Life passes away
like a dream as I mourn out my days.
Tomorrow I will rest from travel awhile
and write to you a little more.
Read more of my poetry at www.facebook.com/latterdaysaintpoetry
Contact me at merrijane.rice@gmail.com
