As we research, travel, and see
Our far-flung family pedigree,
It’s not just through random chances
That we get to add more branches
To our growing family tree.
As we research, travel, and see
Our far-flung family pedigree,
It’s not just through random chances
That we get to add more branches
To our growing family tree.
Each Fall I look back/
at last Spring’s seed stack and think/
of dreams unfulfilled.
Why do I write if/
my words, one day, will vanish?
Why do I eat, drink?
Prompted by The Book of Mormon, 2nd Nephi, Chapter 25, verse 26:
“26 And we talk of Christ, we rejoice in Christ, we preach of Christ, we prophesy of Christ, and we write according to our prophecies, that our children may know to what source they may look for a remission of their sins.”
I don’t want to work.
I don’t want to play, either.
A vegging option?
My sacred home
is no longer my own.
I have no
control.
I can’t even roam
without the silt
of guilt
covering my actions.
There’s no attraction
in what I used to
look forward to.
It’s not sin,
but I can’t rejoice in
anything.
Joy doesn’t ring.
Birds still sing,
but not for me.
The sun still shines,
but, blind,
not for me.
What brings me so low?
I think I know.
I’ve felt it before.
It’s mine to repair
or ignore,
or own
My life’s playing out
so differently, but the end
result is the same.
When it’s twice taken
off the table, and you’re the
constant, you’re the cause.
I fixed our bench swing.
Now we can sit together
and look at our phones.
Since analysis
Of social media started,
relationships interaction,
stability,
and viability
decrease by 73 percent
year-over-year.
I’m so wrapped up in
checking all I might miss that
I’m missing all life.
OR
We’re so wrapped up in
checking all we might miss that
we’re missing our lives.