Monthly Archives: October 2013


“Just because you haven’t discovered it yet doesn’t mean you don’t have one,” she said as I turned and walked away. She was right, and I knew it, no matter how much I wanted it to be otherwise. It was an unending conversation lately, and I was finished with it for the day. Everyone my age had already found theirs; I either didn’t have one or was a late bloomer, or I hadn’t been trying to find it. But we both knew by the fact we were attending school in the desert, the nearest civilization over two hours away by plane, was a direct result of our heritage, which meant I had at least one gift, one “superpower”, bestowed upon me by the gods. One gift I was to use for the betterment of my fellow humans.

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Of Dreams and Tears

An amazing thing
Is the heart
Beating strong

But here’s the sting:
Some come apart—
Hardened with age,
Or filled with rage—
And fail.

Some are supple and soft,
But for all their calm,
Their dreams aloft,
Even seeking Gilead‘s balm,
They will yet wail.

Time has passed
Since I awoke
Dreams saline-soaked—
Streams of a lass.

Though I knew her name,
I knew not why tears came
Streaming down her face.
Oh, if I could her sorrow replace!

She sat three rows in front.
I wondered to what affront
These brooks belonged.
For knowledge I longed.

So of my dream-guide
I enquired discretely,
Who replied so sweetly,
“On thy account she cries.”

Dreaming still, I motioned
For her to come talk with me
Away from the people-ocean.
I took her by the hand
Beyond the people-sand—
For all her tears she could barely see.

Through stifled sobs
The reasons for her sorrow
She revealed.

To reasons for hope I appealed;
Her pain my heart did harrow,
With handkerchief I daubed

Until heart beats
And desire’s throbs
Did meet.

I awoke with a start
My thoughts darting:
Was it real? No, just a dream;
Tears ephemeral.

But now I wonder
Have I blundered?
Have my actions been cause
For her to pause?

When she is where I can’t look,
Have tears streamed down her cheek?
When I’m not where I can take a peek,
Has she formed those saline brooks?

Or is her heart
Safely at rest
In a simple chest
Of bone, and sinew, and flesh?

Copyright © 2013 H.K. Longmore

  • Done Trying ( – Though most certainly not the inspiration for this poem, this post captures the idea of the sorrow in the dream.

The Good Samaritan

Henry B Eyring spoke of the overloaded priesthood holder, referring to the parable of the good Samaritan. This reminded me of one of my favorite poems by Australian poet Henry Lawson:

The Good Samaritan

He comes from out the ages dim—
The good Samaritan;
I somehow never pictured him
A fat and jolly man;
But one who’d little joy to glean,
And little coin to give—
A sad-faced man, and lank and lean,
Who found it hard to live.
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Doubt vs Faith

“Doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith” – Deiter F. Uchtdorf