Fiction Friday: Micropoetry from the Book

Once upon a time in a shady woodland,
a young boy had prayed,
& had been told a happily ever after—
that we could be with our families forever.

The ideal marriage had always been promoted
as one man & one woman,
for even at the dawn of time,
but one wife had been created for Adam.

We solved not the problems of the world,
but tried to solve problems that hadn’t been problems before,
save through the prism of Mormonism.

The idea of sexual relations in Heaven,
of childbirth, & eternal progression,
made an earth of heaven, a heaven of earth.

Heaven wasn’t a state of mind or being
but on a planet far removed from ours.
God hadn’t always been,
but had been as we were now.

Logline for Because of Mindy Wiley An Irish-Catholic girl coming of age in the Deep South during the New Millennium finds her family splintered when two Mormon missionaries come to her door, their presence and promise unearthing long-buried family secrets, which lead to her excommunication and exile.

Pop Culture Jesus

He came into the world a baby,
even as Adam and Eve
entered it,
fully formed.
He is heavily edited,
often misquoted.
Eighteen years of his life
are unaccounted for.
He honored His father and mother,
but honored His Heavenly Father more.
He was a carpenter
even as He was a King.
He is a mystery,
yet many feel they know Him.
He is a part of history,
but not herstory.
He loved all women,
or He loved one woman.
His Name is a prayer,
even as it is a swear.
He was a pescatarian
who declared all meat clean;
a drinker of old wine for the Catholics,
new wine for the Mormons.
His atonement covers all sin
beyond the point of conversion,
for His shed-letting only blots out
sins repented of.
He loved the poor,
for He was one of them.
He is an ideal
few live up to,
and even fewer seek to.
His words have saved the lives
of those who believe,
His influence, even more
for those who do not.
He committed suicide;
He is a martyr who allowed
Himself to be killed.
He is a liberal Socialist
for the eugenicists,
a conservative Republican
for those who believe in
natural selection.
He is God,
He is His Son,
or He was,
simply,
a Man.

http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/wednesday-poetry-prompts-374

The Honest Tree

I am who I am,
barefoot in the garden,
in the midst of the lambs.
Fruits sweet,
birds tweet,
the grass soft beneath my feet.

My husband is not with me,
for he gathers,
but toils not.

From another world we came—
a world we cannot remember.
Like the Ark of Noah that has been prophesied,
we floated through the atmosphere in a vessel,
through the starry galaxy and to this green planet.

In the center of this orchard,
there is a tree—
with fruit as white as can be.
It glows like the firmament,
like the Creator of All Things—
the only God we know,
the only God we are to know.

An asp approaches me,
slithering on the ground without a sound.
He is a beguiling creature,
and I trust his quiet nature.
He is a charmer,
“Take a bite,” he says,
“for it is sweetest above all,
and you will no more be benighted.”

I am drawn to the fruit–
to the light–
and I think, just a little one,
but it is bitter.
There is a rumble in the sky,
and I know I’ve earned the wrath of the Cloud Knitter.
“I told you not to eat of this tree,
for now you are as I once was,
and will suffer pain,
as the Earth will suffer all calamity.”

I weep,
for now the veil has been ripped off–
I am not a beautiful virgin on her wedding night,
but am a crooked old woman with hooves and claws—
a creature of many flaws.
And yet,
I have a consciousness,
an awareness I had not before,
and I am more than I was before.
The scales have fallen from my eyes,
and I see with such clarity,
true goodness and beauty.

I must get Adam to eat,
lest we be separated forever,
and this new world end with us.
I look up to the God of Kolob,
and now the Planet Earth,
praying for a respite from death–
for another birth.

“Do my will,” the Tree Weaver says,
“for what I hath joined together,
neither man nor beast may tear asunder.”

I go to do His bidding,
and find Adam tending to the flock,
and tell him, “Take, eat,
for it will seal us together forever.”

He heeds my word,
and at first bite,
he knows Death will touch our lips,
kissing us good-bye.
But this was how it was to be all along–
for we will no longer live as children,
ignorant of sin,
but will be given the chance to know wrong
and the choice to do right,
so we can be with God again.

I look up to the heavens and smile,
and God baptizes us in the rain.
“For the remission of sins,” God says,
“which hath brought about the greater good.
I baptize thee in My Name,
for I Am Who I Am.”

*I have found I gravitate towards long, narrative poems (or, if I don’t have a “story” idea, I write something short and silly).  The following is what one might refer to as a “shaggy God” poem.  This is basically the story of Genesis, told a different way (with shades of Mormonism and Scientology).  This was a fun “what-if” type of exercise.