Kayenta
April 3, 2018Summers we paint relocation houses
on the res, beige and grey,
“Navajo white/’ our brushes dripping
Dutch Boy on red Arizona earth.
Summers we paint relocation houses
on the res, beige and grey,
“Navajo white/’ our brushes dripping
Dutch Boy on red Arizona earth.
Dialogue 30.2 (Summer 1997): 47–65
Born into a Canadian family living in St. Andrews, Ontario Province, on 20 October 1861 , Richard C. Evans rose to fame and power experienced by few other members of the Reorganized Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.
when it topped the mountains
the shell of moon laid down
such plenty
all over the fields
The Savior counsels his followers to “[a]sk, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened” (Matt. 7:7-8).
As a young boy I believed in these words with such steadfast sure ness that I actually formulated a list of wishes to bring before the Lord. The adversity of life, however, has taken that simple child-like faith and dashed it against the rocky shoals of reality.
I think about religion and psychology all the time. They call to mind a huge quandary based on what appear to be irreconcilable dichotomies: faith versus empiricism (the subjective versus the objective); sin or evil…
In the ghost-smoke of eight thousand feet,
the road back looks deserted.
Below me, a hawk rises,
wings throbbing stillness, and I watch
My dear granddaughter, Dolly Sri, I knew you would cause me problems the first time I held you in my arms. My anxiety became real when I saw you win your first gymnastic meet. It heightened as I watched you walk across the stage as a junior prom princess.
In 1980-81 Richard D. Poll, vice-president of Western Illinois University and former professor of history at Brigham Young University, was re searching, interviewing for, and writing a comprehensive biography of LDS apostle and member of…
I am turning the irrigation water
Into my garden
It’s two in the afternoon
The reddening tomatoes jerk up, widen their eyes
Like a storm rowing in. All around tree limbs stagger,
weeds lie flat. Wind and sun like familiars,
canyons nesting in the shadows. Bright feet
never touching down, while the air boils behind her