February 16–22 ❘ Multitudes

Multitudes

My children are seedlings still
with roots tentatively threading earth
and branches spreading heavenward.
I can’t yet imagine grandchildren,
much less progeny innumerable
as dust,

               but they will come.
As Abraham’s child, I am heir
to new names and promised lands.
I already bear little cuts that come
from pruning and practicing
sacrifice.

               My family will grow
like an aspen stand intertwined
at base though miles apart on surface.
We will multiply like rust-red buds
bursting in spring, like gold-coin leaves
shed to forest floor in autumn.

               I must cultivate carefully.
How many tender ears will hear
the words I say to one child now
withered by sorrow? Look
toward the night sky. Count
all the stars in heaven
if you can.

• Read more of my poetry at www.facebook.com/latterdaysaintpoetry

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