April 24–30 ❘ Vision
Vision
I’ve heard that in the temple
spirits sometimes slip through
to visit the living in the midst
of whispered prayer,
but they’ve never come to me.
I do my duty uninterrupted,
make my sacrifices,
cast coins into the treasury,
always in the same offering box
where once I heard a young man say
that he was the light of life
that could burn through any fog
between me and the Father,
if only I would believe.
I stopped to listen,
but my friends swept me away,
murmuring, “He has a devil.”
Sometimes I ponder
his bright words.
Blind as I am, perhaps God
has a work to manifest in me,
a way to wash this clay
so I can see.
To read more of my poetry, visit www.facebook.com/latterdaysaintpoetry.
For questions, comments, or concerns, contact me atmerrijane.rice@gmail.com.
