Panya

Beautiful Places

My fathers came out of Jerusalem.

Some of my relatives were said to have been of those to leave on ships, never to be seen again.

Sometimes my mind thinks of beautiful places. Maybe across the sea somewhere, where our long lost relatives have created homes in green valleys. Beaches of sand glitter in my mind.

I’ve never seen the ocean.

Once I had lived in a home, with Mother and Father, and my brothers and sisters.

Now I know not where many of them are. My siblings, my Father, are lost to me. I don’t know if they still live.

I blink.

I shift in my blanket, and glance across the dying fire to my Mother, who is completely asleep. We’re in dangerous country. The forests stretch on and on, the eastern parts of the Land of Desolation. No Nephite is safe unless they deny the Christ. My family won’t. I won’t.

I look up at the sky. Black-ish blue, and filled with stars. It’s so beautiful.

I stare, surprised. Beauty still exists in the world. It gives me a warm comfort, like He’s watching out for me up there.

Then a horrible image fills my mind. I grimace, and squint. No. Not that. I lay my head back on the dirt, and return my gaze to the stars, breathing deeply.

I fall asleep, listening to the Heavens sing.