Final Exhortation

Moroni is speaking to me.
He asks if I will harden
during hard times,
exchange railing for railing,
adopt enemy tactics,

and tear myself from God
in whirlwinds of outrage.
Will I wield truth to skewer
my neighbor or to cut out
the calloused parts
of my own heart?

He entreats me to recollect
the things I’ve read and felt—
facets of truth uncovered
like raw gems emerging
after long erosion,
serenity dropped like manna
to my wasted soul.
I remember and deny it not.

Moroni stands at the bar,
pins me with searching eyes,
leans in to urgently hiss
one last word with one last breath.

He is speaking to me.
I am listening.

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