Turn | A poem about repentance

I love the Fall.

Not just because that’s when my birthday is,

but because, like many,

I like to watch the leaves change color, 

Colliding with the unseen breeze

as they tumble softly toward the ground.

I love tromping through the gutter

And going out of my way to step 

on exceptionally crunchy looking leaves.

I love it when the earth grows colder,

giving half the world a chip from its shoulder -

just brisk enough to give us a preview,

like a prophecy of future promises

of snowfall, fireplaces, and movie marathons

when it will be too cold to go outside;

it's an appetizer of things to come,

a fiery, biting, refreshing teaser.

The Fall, remember, is the very thing

that carries coziness in its wings.

It reminds us how to stoke the fire,

and appreciate its toasty glow.

For months now we've complained of heat,

But soon we will complain of snow.

So relish this short reprieve, 

and bask in the refreshing air;

for the winter's not quite as forgiving

with its icy, frigid snare.

The Fall is the season of instruction,

to appreciate what was always there. 

It warns us with its morning frost 

that soon the air will be too cold to breathe, 

so we should enjoy what’s left of the sun,

and love what’s left of the leaves. 

But most of all, I love the Fall

because it’s nature’s annual reminding time

that in order to be born again,

first, you have to die.

You see, most people fear change,

but in the same breath,

can’t help but admit

what they really fear is death. 

They fear it so much that they sell their souls away.

Not to the mast of Davy Jones, 

but to their skin,

stretched tight across their bones.

We feel the pull of mortality, 

everyday so urgently

that we fill it up with more distractions 

that numb the guilt. We justify our actions

with nicer phones, nicer cars, 

and all that bull crap in a jar 

that every ad insists we are

or someday have to be.

And then once we have it all, 

we toss a photo on our wall

so that everyone else on our so-called 

“Friend list” are all convinced 

that WE FINALLY MADE IT!

We’re happy.

But at the end of the day, 

we’re only another day older.

And just like the leaves decaying in the gutter,

we change, we fall, and then we flutter

until we can’t do so much as muster

a smile for the selfie or the shutter. 

So what happened to Fall?

What happened to death being beautiful?

It sounds a bit macabre, I know, 

But to fall is progress, it's permission to grow -

The earth has fallen so many times 

that you and I would have to live and die 

63 million more lifetimes 

just to know the age of snow.

Did you know that as many times you fall,

There is some part of you that is put to death?

You see, Nephi taught that every gift

God gave to us in this mortal rift

is a type of the mission of the Son of God. 

And since his very first gift was this earthen shelf,

He carved within it His mirrored self,

which shouldn’t strike us as too very odd.

So do you see it? You don't have to look far

to find that broken things are stronger once they're on the mend.

So in a galaxy made of 100 billion stars 

and 100,000 light-years end to end, 

it’s about time we stopped dressing our scars 

in a made up world of “play pretend”.

This ancient earth beneath our feet 

and the sun out in the ether

have been fastened, joined, remarkably,

invisibly as if with a tether,

for one and a half trillion days,

in a gravitational waltz, together

And all of this as if to say, 

“See? Death doesn’t last forever.”

The Son of God forsook his throne 

for a time to come down to His own, 

to suffer, bleed, and live as man, 

and then to die - that was the Plan. 

But like the Earth when its axis turns, 

and one side freezes while the other burns, 

there is a time between the seasons 

which was given to us for several reasons -

Not the least of which is just to show 

that Fall makes room for Spring to grow.

We live, we die, we live, we die,

But the only true death is to never try.

And like the blossoms in the trees,

which are pollinated by the bees,

New life will come, afresh and new -

that’s what the Savior did for you. 

Because the Savior took our sin, 

and felt our pain - without and within - 

we don’t have to wait till the end of years

before we get to dry our tears.

Again the Lord is a master teacher, 

and, with science, taught the Plan’s best feature:

like the planet earth on which we’re born, 

we all must choose, from sin be torn,

Winning, failing, but turning constantly;

And when we fall, have hope in spring.

The Fall, remember, is the very thing

from which we were meant to be redeemed.

So that’s why I like when the seasons change

and the days become a little shorter.

As the earth keeps turning, so should we,

and try to act a little older.

Let yourself fall, let yourself die,

there's no need to be afraid.

Because every time you're born again

is part of the reason you were made.

Repentance isn’t pain and anguish

(unless you try to fight it)

When written in another language,

T-U-R-N’s how you would write it.

And if you have to turn ten million times

before perfect you can be,

You’re no worse off than the earth,

Turning back to the Sun constantly.

That, I think, is why I love the Fall.

- Taylor Yorgason