“And this is the account of Ammon and his brethren, their journeyings in the land of Nephi, their sufferings in the land, their sorrows, and their afflictions, and their incomprehensible joy…” —Alma 28:8

photo credit: More Good Foundation (Flickr)

They trickle, salty–
the beads of sweat
through the parched testimony
of many miles dust,
etching the lines of concentration.
He puffs them off his nose with each gasp,
…hope María’s home
each weary cycle
…hope they’ve prayed
of legs and mind
…Please, Father.

They trickle, salty
through sunny children with nervous smiles;
dark eyes that say:
…Otra vuelta.
Wine and milk without price…
…No, gracias.
Tears on darkened pillow
record the worth of souls;
stiff knees say Please, Father.

They trickle, salty
with white clothes, open smiles,
the quiet majesty of peace-filled testimony.
They say Gracias.
The thirsty come, buy, and eat;
they say Lo haremos.

They trickle, sweetly,
forever,
tears of joy.