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August 5–11 ❘ For Corianton

Poem and discussion centering on part of a letter that Alma wrote to his son Corianton as recorded in Alma 41:10.

For Corianton

To be a seagull—
to waddle over wet shore
and scavenge and cry and soar and bob
as tide erases all transient,
three-toed footprints—

is not for you. You can’t be happy
living by whim of appetite or plunder
nor can you embody sand
that hourly shivers and drifts
beneath water and wind.

You were chosen as sharp-eyed
beachcomber—to pick through litter
and uncover hidden treasures—
to discern translucent edge of sea agate
from brittle, bleached shell or bird feather—

to witness sun melt into ocean at night
and rise again glorious in the morning.

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July 29–August 4 ❘ Remember

Poem and discussion centering on Alma’s instructions to his son Helaman about preserving their sacred records as recorded in Alma 37:13–14.

Remember

Reach back,
stitch mind to mind
with those who lived before.
Enlarge your memory piece
by piece until you’ve scrapped
together whole cloth
of God’s interaction with man.

Note the patterns,
how those who keep covenants
are quilted thick and strong
while those who rebel
are trimmed away like frayed
edges from torn fabric.

Now,
take up your small,
simple needle
and set your hand
to mending.

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July 22–28 ❘ Poor in Heart

Poem and discussion centering on Alma’s comparison of the word of God to a seed as recorded in Alma 32:28.

Poor in Heart

I used to be certain,
satisfied I had all truth
stored up tight.

Over time, I’ve wrung life
dry, licked it clean.
My heart is emptier
than a beggar’s cup.

Despised, deemed dross
by the lowest ranks
of respectable rebels
and heretics,

I now hunger so deeply
that I’ll plant any good seed once
to see what grows.

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July 15–21 ❘ Korihor

Poem and discussion centering on Korihor’s story as recorded in Alma 30.

Korihor

What I don’t know,
no one knows.
If I can’t see the future,
no one can.
If anyone exists but me,
they are bit players blocked
into the background of a story
I write, direct, strut, and star in.

And if I’m temporarily dumbstruck,
I have genius enough
to stage a comeback.
I can still connive, conspire,
beg my way to one more encore
before the final curtain cuts
my speeches into oblivion.

My words will yet be
engraved in history.
Just wait and see.

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July 8–14 ❘ Burial

Poem and discussion centering on the Lamanites who were converted to Jesus Christ and as a result gave up their weapons of war as recorded in Alma 23:7.

Burial

I am shedding my weapons
of rebellion piece by piece,
casting them deep into the pit—

sharp words that cut
and sting for weeks,
scar thick over years
of mindless repetition,

hard looks that slap
and bruise tender feelings
without reprieve or balm
of single cooling syllable,

poison thoughts that sicken
with rot, smear goodness,
and choke truth under
piles of grudge.

I’ve been at war too long,
merciless and hurting.
I bow down before you,
waiting for your blade to drop.

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July 1–7 ❘ Lamoni

Poem and discussion centering on King Lamoni’s imagined inner dialogue when he was afraid to speak to Ammon as recorded in Alma 18:14–15.

Lamoni

Grandmother taught me eloquence:
how to speak even in silence
when fear constricts heart and throat.

Grandfather taught me cunning:
how to trim and stitch opportunity
from unexpected circumstance.

Father taught me balance:
how to keep my feet when friends shift
beneath like gravel on mountain path.

Mother taught me love:
how it feels to be forgiven
for callow wrongs.

Ammon taught me how nurtured hurt
distorts truth like a dark mist,
blinding me to another Father

who teaches mercy—
how to honor good traditions
and let the rest melt away like frost
at touch of dawn’s outspread fingers.

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June 24–30 ❘ Amulek

Poem and discussion centering on Alma welcoming Amulek into his own house as recorded in Alma 15:18.

Amulek

When sun sloped over threshold
on slow, sultry afternoons,
I would watch my children play
in the yard—tumbling daughter
and round son, like the curly glyphs
that spilled from brush to page
at my writing table. My wife
Eztli would scoop them up,
each to an arm, laughter splashing
as she trundled them to hammocks
for songs and naps.

I will never see them again
in this life—yet I subsist
on God’s promise,
angel’s word,

and Alma’s welcome,
whom I now hear whimper
from down the hall
as he sometimes does
while he sleeps.

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June 17–23 ❘ Laden

Poem and discussion centering on Alma’s words to Zeezrom that this life is the time to prepare to meet God as recorded in Alma 12:24, 27.

Laden

I am not condemned by feelings—
moods that ebb or flow
like tides to lunar pull
of illness, hunger, hormones—

but by thoughts: little boats
that harbor in my mind
as I pace decks and count
and recount every sail and plank;

by words: hiss of fuse
and cannon crash, clang
of anchor and canvas slap
as I loose myself to battle;

by action: or more often inaction
to some lonely, desperate SOS
from foundering vessel warped
and torn by violent crosscurrents.

I am condemned by what I stow
deep within. Judgment
will be too late to offload
rotting freight at His feet.

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June 10–16 ❘ Dilemma

Poem and discussion centering on Alma’s great sermon to the people of the church asking them if they have been born of God as recorded in Alma 5:14–16, 48.

Dilemma

Have you asked yourself
how to navigate to freedom
when no corkscrew paths twist
away from consequence?
Everything swirls and funnels
from first great cause
to last effect,

nadir where you choose—
where Christ hangs

on time’s chiasmus,
freeing every generation
since the war in heaven.
You are caught between
corner stone and stumbling block.
Will you break or be broken?
Ask yourself.

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June 3–9 ❘ Costly

Poem and discussion centering on some of the reasons the people of the church in Zarahemla began to grow proud as recorded in Alma 4:6–8.

Costly

Come, feel this linen.
Finger its tightly twined fabric, hold it up
to light and see it flow like finest silk—
expensive, yes, but worth the price
for one who takes pride in appearance
as a person of your means would,
a person who’s earned wealth by industry.
Robes from this will make your envious friends
grieve.

New clothes don’t suit?
Then please have a seat, take meat with us,
fresh from our plentiful flocks and farms,
prime stock held in reserve for discerning
appetites too sated to eat for need.
Let us tempt your greater emptiness
with fare full-flavored and fragrant.

No? I see
you are a person of discretion and taste.
But we have many worthy entertainments
for your perusal. Set your heart on any
clever book, gilded toy, or silver-plated vanity.
It’s yours for a trifle—precious little affliction
to gain all your will and pleasure.

Unless you’re another one
of those scornful believers
who judge and persecute us
for our harmless comforts
or who beg undeserved share
in what we can ill afford to give.
Come, let me show you
the way out.

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May 27–June 2 ❘ Alma the Elder

Poem and discussion centering on Alma’s concerns for his son as recorded in Mosiah 27:8–9.

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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May 20–28 ❘ By the Waters of Mormon

Poem and discussion centering on Alma’s invitation to his followers to be baptized as recorded in Mosiah 18:8–10.

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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May 13–19 ❘ Abinadi

Poem and discussion centering on the martyrdom of Abinadi as recorded in Mosiah 17:1–10.

Abinadi

I thought I saw fire
in young Alma’s eyes.

I knew his father—
original settler with Zeniff—
saw him smile with pride
as his rangy son outpaced other boys.
Even then, they played at war,
though reined in by watchful parents
when tempers flared.

In those days I spoke carefully,
persuaded in meekness,
mindful that heated warnings
could bake hearts hard as clay
over glowing coals.

Now, I erupt blistering ash, smoke-
signaling the conflagration to come.

I do not regret my life,
though it ends like grass
in a roaring furnace.

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May 6–12 ❘ Wisdom

Poem and discussion centering on the words of King Limhi comparing wisdom to a woman as recorded in Mosiah 8:20–21.

Wisdom

is a shepherdess. She guides
through narrow gorge
toward cote’s safety and guards
from predator who taunts
her flock as senseless sheep,
mocks their simple trust as fault.
The beast slavers, snarls, darts in to scatter,

but cannot break the mass.
Hold fast, little lamb. Remember,
no hidden hunger lying in wait
can strike and strip your hope
down to bone—not
when you pasture
with Wisdom.

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April 29–May 5 ❘ All Beggars

Poem and discussion centering on King Benjamin’s statement that all people are beggars before God as recorded in Mosiah 4:19.

All Beggars

Less than dust,
I scrape, scratch,
grub for something to fill
more than stomach
more than a day.

I plead and pray,
woo and worry the Lord.
He pours in, coaxes out
till I unfurl like flower
toward warmth and light,

then He turns, tips
my vision earthward
where others still search,
still hope like so many seeds
to sprout in the sun.

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April 22–28 ❘ The Natural Man

Poem and discussion centering on King Benjamin’s description of the natural man as an enemy to God as recorded in Mosiah 3:19.

The Natural Man

wants what she wants:
A dozen chocolate chip cookies
fresh from the oven.
A knot-dissolving neck massage
without anything expected in return.
Someone to make dinner every night
for the rest of her life.
Is that too much to ask?

She wants to lie on the couch
and not work but still get paid.
She’s not so much an enemy to God
as an ally to no one, except as mood
or advantage suits. And maybe
an enemy to anyone who wants something.
She’d rather be loved for who she is—
but also, in spite of who she is.

She wants that soft, disappointed voice
that ticks off the daily checklist
to just shut up for once
every day
for the rest of her life.

Is that too much to ask?

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April 15–21 ❘ Wrestle

Poem and discussion centering on Enos’s prayer for the remission of his sins as recorded in Enos 1:2–4.

Wrestle

When I tell you
how I went to the woods
to hunger, to hunt,
to grapple with God,

you may think of Jacob
striving till daybreak,
out of joint and desperate
for blessing,

or careful Abraham
haggling for Sodom
down to ten righteous souls.

In the end,
the Lord pinned us all,
held us to our bargains,

for there can be no truce
with a changeable Father
who plays favorites.

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April 8–14 ❘ Family Tree

Poem and discussion centering on the allegory of the tame and wild olive trees as recorded in Jacob 5.

Family Tree

I don’t remember
how we started,
who was grafted into whom,

who first strengthened roots
and tamed bitter thoughts
to tenderness.

But I believe the Master
planted us together,
left us alone a while

not to make us desperate,
but to give time for turning
toward each other

to nourish away weakness
before we wither.
He waits at the gate,

hand poised
midway between grief
and hope.

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April 1–7 ❘ Unshaken

Poem and discussion centering on my reaction to those who reject Christ, mock his followers, and discount scripture as worthless as recorded in Jacob 7:1–2.

Unshaken

Like wriggling fish,
scripture slips our grasp.
Language changes, ripples,
migrates over time.
Our fathers wrested Christ from writ,
obscured and exiled him to desert.
Sherem tried to flatter him away
even from wilderness.

If words are water,
God’s are a brisk river running
one eternal round
from mountain to sea to sky.
Plunge in. Bury yourself,
unbraced against the Spirit.
Let Him shiver through,
purify like icy fire. He will
become clear to you.

Submerged in vivid oracle,
you will remain undisturbed
when little boats cut the surface.

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March 25–31 ❘ Foundation

Poem and discussion centering on Helaman’s words to his sons Nephi and Lehi as recorded in Helaman 5:12.

Foundation

This morning,
the house is quiet. I sip, savoring
half-remembered days of childhood
when I sang to the ceiling,
spinning improvised tunes
until I dropped off into sunny
afternoon sleep.

More often now,
the world’s a whirlwind
whipping mindless detritus
into purposeful, pointed shafts
and hailing violence till I weep
from the beating. I’ve yet to find cover
from the storm above,

but instead cling to rock beneath,
shored against crash after crash
by foundation on which I layer

interludes of silence—
nap-time burbles in crib,
morning meditations in kitchen,

sacred space of sacrament
when time hangs and Christ anchors
my memories eternally in His own.

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