Fiction Friday: Micropoetry from the Book

They believed in a premortal existence—
their souls went from everlasting to everlasting,
even as I’d been given amnesia at birth.

He led me into the still, warm water,
so that he could claim my soul,
& lead me onto the path his father had
paved for him–
not dirt with a picket fence,
but asphalt with guardrails.

To Elder Roberts, I was ethereal,
worthy of awe.
To David, I was worthy of his love.
I was earthy and real,
& he loved me in all my forms.

My life would now be full of defining moments,
like dots on a timeline—
a line that had been as straight
as the cessation of a beating heart.

The Catholics put Jesus up on the cross,
the Protestants took Him down,
but the Mormons–
they took the cross that was left,
& carried it.

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