Each Stone

In Remembrance of the Builders of the Salt Lake Temple

 

Each stone tells a story

Of sacrifice and tears.

Each stone cut and fashioned

O'er forty long hard years.

 

Each stone hewn and chiseled

From a mountain granite slab,

Perfected by the builder's hands

So the builder's work would last.

 

Each stone is a watchman

That stands a silent proof

Of heaven's sweet distilling

When men but seek for truth.

 

All these stones together

One fitting monument

To the builders of the temple

Who understood just what it meant.

 

Copyright 1997 by Layne S. Porter

The Canker

It's mostly found in tender places

Where almost every movement raises

An irritating-itching pain

That drives your searching tongue insane.

 

It takes its time to heal and mend

And when it's better in the end,

We quick forget this pampered friend

Stroked and soothed by tongues caress.

 

But when the canker's in the heart

And the pain is really hard,

When tears and anger swell and start,

Will tongue still do its soothing part?

 

Or, will it stroke with caustic words

Spoken so they're fitly heard

With little thought as anger stirs,

While sweet forgiveness goes unheard?

 

Copyright 2003 by Layne S. Porter

The Care Center

In solitude of endless days

Long and lonesome nights,

They sit inside their lonely rooms

Clinging on to life.

 

With solitude their constant friend

They wear away the days,

Longing for familiar sounds

Attached to family names.

 

Those strangely silent voices

Too faraway to hear

Forget the pangs of loneliness

So prevalent in here.

 

Odd, how some detach themselves,

Seldom show their face.

This world where emptiness is king,

Avoided like the plague.

 

Perhaps it is an inner fear,

Afraid that they might be

Someday confined inside these walls

Where friends are seldom seen.

Copyright 2001 by Layne S. Porter