383 and 384

The house is simple, on its bare outside.

No gilding or impressing is out there.

And all that does within its walls now hide

is barely more than the surrounding air.

No sign nor fencing indicates its wealth,

nor if you stole into its mailbox would

you find much fiscal bounty for your stealth,

but you’d indeed find much there that is good:

A mailbox full of letters from close kin,

and those not very close asking to stay.

Postcards from all the world make there way in

that box from those who slept its house one day.

The house, earth’s gold and silver doesn’t know,

but in and out its better winnings go.

~~~

A perspective only. Take it or leave it.

Mosiah 18:8-10:

What does it mean to mourn with those that mourn?

To comfort those who stand in need of it?

To feel for those who, from their homes are torn

for crimes that they have not and won’t commit?

I made a covenant to do just that,

at waters named for Mormon, with a host

who were subjected to the selfsame spat:

a rivalry of who “owned” “land” the “most”.

I’m sick. For some who made that pact with me

have spoken not at all for those who now

are rent from comforts so relentlessly,

and mourn much more than I can fathom how.

Who loves the God of mercy? Is it we

who let such wounds surround us wordlessly?