Why do you glut
yourselves on sheep
walking with pinched
shoulders and bowed
heads, crying to you
in your beds of ivory?
How dare you prosper
in this genius enterprise,
slaying the fatted calf
for yourselves. You keep
the flock in the thrall
of apricot authority
gathered to barns
locked with priestly seal,
ensnaring little lambs
with the caress
of stainless promises
while fleecing them
with tarnished shears
your velvet robes
cannot conceal.

Alma

The word was never
meant to steal.
Flee the shepherd
exercising lordship
as a polished silver staff.
Remember what Father Lehi
taught: salvation is free─
there is nothing you can buy
from me. I cannot redeem
you.

Korihor

How does one cheat
a soul? Skim the cream
with religion’s knife,
blessing hungry souls
with cleanness of teeth?
There is always a cost
lost lambs must pay
or God will hew
them down (you say)
at the end. Why─
if they only knew
sin is a figment
for you to profit by!

Alma

A price will be paid
but not by you. To restore
our perfect frame
God himself shall burn
away our shame
with scalding milk
and blood-red honey.

Korihor

You preach for money!
I see no reason
for faith where your pious shadow
grows long in eventide.
Unless you show me
a sign.
​
Alma

Wo to them who pervert
the way of the Lord!
Know this:
the narrow way
requires no money
at all to follow Him
who will be crucified.
But the cost
to keep your self-
righteous pride?
You will pay
handsomely
to enter the wide.

Korihor

You make merchandise
of the cross. But
I will believe you
are one of the humble few
followers of that Christ
you say will come
only on this wise:
show me a sign.

Alma

Will you be struck dumb
when all around is proof?
The planets testify
and stars bear witness
across the logos-sky
of God shedding His love,
undressing His face
for you to behold
if not for the beam
in your eye!

Korihor

Be done, and admit
your crimes. Oppress
the poor no more,
else show me a sign!

Then Alma stretched forth his hand
and cried with a mighty voice, saying:

How are true messengers known?
See:
I am no king-man.
Did I make the judgment seat my throne?
I bear no purse, carry no scrip:
I hold sacred the sign of my apostleship.

With mine own hands
I have labored
for my support
as God commands.

​​      According to the Holy Order
      to which I am called
      I give you this sign:

          As high priest
          I refused to take
          so much as a single
          senine.

---

return to poems