The Thorn I Chose

I once saw His light behind the veil

Just a glimmer through the smoke of ritual and memory

It flickered in the silence between the sermons

In the aching pauses no one else seemed to hear

I could have risen

I could have moved

But I stayed seated in the pew

Hands folded like they were taught

Heart armored by decades of safe obedience

The fire burned behind the veil

And I called it someone else's burden

They warned me about wilderness

Said it was exile

Said it was death

Said it was for the reckless, the broken, the misled

But the voice

His voice

Whispered That's where I begin

I should have gone

I should have run barefoot through the dust and the doubt

Instead I lingered

I prayed half-prayers and made half-promises and polished the altar of my own comfort

There were gifts

Holy terrifying gifts

And I buried them

Dug the grave myself

Even used scripture to cover the scent

I wrapped glory in propriety

Called it grace

And sang hymns while the kingdom groaned beneath its own weight

I passed the cup

I bowed my head

I smiled at the children and quoted the Prophets and waited for someone else to obey

And the child inside me

The one who saw angels in clouds and believed the Liahona might still be waiting in the backyard

He kept dreaming

He dreamed of swords drawn in quiet hands

Of rivers deep with ancient memory

Of covenants unkept but not unrecoverable

I hushed him

I fed him silence

I gave him sleep instead of truth

But he remembered what I was trying to forget

Now I walk through a garden that once bloomed with promise

I recognize the fig tree I cursed by neglect

Still standing

Still fruitless

Still watching

The vow I once made in whispers lies torn beneath its roots