Who Am I?
I know the names of plants,
animals, states, and countries.
I know about George Washington,
Abe Lincoln, and the Desert Fox.
I know about the Green Mountain Boys,
and Nephi, and the stripling warriors
whose mothers taught them well.
I even know about Facebook, Instagram,
and blogging, and other social media things.
I know about dissecting sentences,
plopping verbs where they belong.
I know when not to dangle modifiers
or place commas and apostrophes
where they don’t belong.
I know why I should drive the speed limit,
buy items only when they are on sale,
and bath once a day.
So why is it that I sometimes wonder
Who I really am?
Shouldn’t knowing be as simple
as making chocolate chip cookies, frosting cake,
or painting lilacs on the wall?
Shouldn’t knowing be as clear
as hiking canyon trails,
reading Shakespeare’s sonnets,
and picking out animals in the clouds?
Shouldn’t knowing be as clear as using Venmo,
Zoom, WhatsApp, and Alexa?
Why then do I stumble so
just before dances and the big date
or when she tells me
she doesn’t want to see me again
or when I get a D on a test
or when I don’t get my way
or when my day goes blue by noon?
Why do I sink deep
in the leather chair,
mope around the house,
and misunderstand what is written
and hovers in my heart?
How can I miss the words,
the plain and simple ones,
that reach from centuries beyond,
all the while these ancient and modern words
simultaneously shout from the roof tops
that it was He who was risen
that it was He who died for me
that it was He in whose image I am created
that it was He who said
I would inherit all that my Father hath
and be made one with Him
in His many mansions
prepared for me?
Shouldn’t I know clearly that I am
a son of a Heavenly Father and Mother
who love me?
It seems so simple
when I pray.
Shouldn’t knowing be as simple
as making chocolate chip cookies, frosting cake,
or painting lilacs on the wall?
Shouldn’t knowing be as clear
as hiking canyon trails,
reading Shakespeare’s sonnets,
and picking out animals in the clouds?
Shouldn’t knowing be as clear as using Venmo,
Zoom, WhatsApp, and Alexa?
Why then do I stumble so
just before dances and the big date
or when she tells me
she doesn’t want to see me again
or when I get a D on a test
or when I don’t get my way
or when my day goes blue by noon?
Why do I sink deep
in the leather chair,
mope around the house,
and misunderstand what is written
and hovers in my heart?
How can I miss the words,
the plain and simple ones,
that reach from centuries beyond,
all the while these ancient and modern words
simultaneously shout from the roof tops
that it was He who was risen
that it was He who died for me
that it was He in whose image I am created
that it was He who said
I would inherit all that my Father hath
and be made one with Him
in His many mansions
prepared for me?
Shouldn’t I know clearly that I am
a son of a Heavenly Father and Mother
who love me?
It seems so simple
when I pray.
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