By the Waters of Mormon

I stood all night at forest’s edge
to hear Alma make his case:
         What have you against this promise?
         To share our burdens makes them light.

I once mourned with a neighbor,
sat in awkward silence while she wept,
felt unearned guilt for something I didn’t do
and couldn’t fix. Was her loss restored
by my imperfect comfort?
Will mine be if I trade my right
to reject, retract, or take offense
in exchange for the heavy obligation
to love even the unlovable?

Yet his curious words drew me
like a baited hook, pricked me
with half-defined hope.
The group moved toward water,
but I hung back,

still undecided, weighing
the cost, wondering
what to tell the king.

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