Alma the Elder

In wilderness and bondage,
I raised my son to serve and suffer
injustice in peace, to pray
with silent eloquence that only God
could hear and answer.

In comfort and freedom,
he’s become what I once was—
learned and cocksure,
nimble with words, fiery
advocate for what he says
is common sense. He twists
religion to suit passion, lures
the simple and innocent for sport,
crushes them under an avalanche
of argument.

God says I must blot out
the unrepentant.

But I was saved long ago
by bold sacrifice,
and every day I pray
for another Abinadi.

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