I remained in my parents’
home to avoid chance.
It was in the evening,
an ugly, foggy night
late in autumn.
It would be the last
time I sat out or shrunk,
my ego poorly cloaked.
Having stayed put,
I became lost in
a bustle of siblings.
I put on blinders. I
played it cool. After
a supposed forever,
weakness dissolved
while I sermonized.
Wispy lights tickled
my warm body. I felt
assured of a long,
indestructible
life ahead!
But, before I could beg
this illusion to stay…
I heard claws in darkness
grasping at my feet, wide
pools of shadow rising
rapidly near me—
darkness teasing,
never touching.
After a winter of waffling,
weakness stilled my tongue.
I dared not ask a thing.
Beneath my toes
a singular beast
gazed up but never spoke,
its horror all you can imagine.
Excellent questions eluded
my mind or tied my tongue.
I considered those offering up
their unspoken love to chance.
The quiet claws curled around
my heels, lifted and threw me
out into a world of uniform
lovers.
When my eyes opened,
the family garden soiled
my sight, crusted my nose,
muddied my mouth. Light
warmed my flaccid limbs.
I slithered from the yard
leaving my mother’s calls
unanswered.
Poet’s Notes:
For contrast, here is the official account of the First Vision: Joseph Smith—History 1:14-20. Reactions to this piece are welcome in the comments section. Thank you for reading.
Wheat & Tares 
A fascinating exploration. “Remained in my parents’ home to avoid chance” is a perfect description of the problems of modern society.
Far too many young people do exactly that. They hide out in their parents’ basements playing video games because they are afraid to take a “chance” in the outside world.
As this poem refers to, hiding in basements causes problems with family, and leads to unproductive existence. Even worse, it leads to serious moral problems.
Interesting to picture this poem’s narrative taking place in the basement. As the poet, I only pictured it taking place in a ground floor living room. The poem makes no mention of a specific room in the home, so readers are free to envision any room in the house.
To me, the poem is about the inevitability of leaving home. Even if one avoids taking the initiative to search out a sacred grove and do the soul searching, something shoves us out there eventually. Playing things safe brings consequences too. And if we cling too hard and too long to home, as some of us do, we may overcorrect when we do finally leave and become too distant for those who wanted to be there for us.
“ I remained in my parents’
home to avoid chance..”……
Sometimes as I am out and about, running errands in my car, I see a homeless person. I try to imagine what it might feel like to be in their shoes, and I wonder how they ended up where they are. I took the “safe” path, went from living with my parents, then 1 yr living away, (attending college), then married. Barely anytime living on my own or totally supporting myself financially.
Do the homeless have courage I lack? Or, just the misfortune I’ve never experienced?
Thanks, Jake.
I always enjoy pondering and contemplating the pictures you paint with your words.
Not generally a fan of your poetry but this one knocked me over.
Lois, thank you for exploring the context of homelessness. In writing this piece, my mind had not even gone there. So I appreciate your willingness to raise the subject, and doing so through empathetic introspection. Especially in the context of religion and community, homelessness deserves all the discussion and action we can give it.
P, by way of goodwill, I am routinely not a fan of my poetry either. I tend to love the writing process even if the resulting piece is lacking or problematic. Sometimes I revisit a poem I enjoyed writing, grimace, and say to myself, “What the heck was I thinking on this one?” In any case, thank you for showing up and giving it a try. It helps to get feedback.