The Deacon and the Dragonby Theric Jepson

Fitt One

After the Son our Savior was slain upon a slandered tree
And taken to tomb to rest
Only to rise, radiant, resurrected upon the rise of the sun—
And after the apostles persuaded people to pray in his name—
And after His religion removed from Rome to Reformation,
Good people grasping for gospel, as grace did grant—
A boy persuaded by beatific bounty to pray
In a copse curtained by Spirit sacred
Was verily visited by our precious Lord and Pater
Thus, providing a path—
providing holy priesthood,
a means to God’s great heart, the only
path to comfort and to heaven.

Years later, that of our Lord two thousand seven,
In the Holyoake Ward,
Bishop Bartlett, bearer of priesthoods both Aaronic and Melchizedek,
Received a call come from Carolyn Carter,
A woman never wayward and once wonderful.
Her fiery flowers, friendly signs to strolling strangers
Had brutally been butchered before their bulbs could breach soil’s surface.
And the culprit seen,
the terror observed, the
culprit caught in flagrante delicto as
seen by her: a DRAGON.

Bishop Bartlett’s breast rose in righteous rage
But a humbler hero of Melchizedek mien
Was never known, not within any of the world’s wards
And this simple-souled servant did not decide
To tackle this terror himself, but did delegate,
For does not the Doctrine & Covenants designate DRAGONs
The duty of deacons,
duty of the church-keepers,
of the quorum of but twelve—
Deacons: God’s infantry.

Thus this bashful bishop’s bounteous blessings shall bestow a stewardship
Upon our cast of characters which now I count for you:
First, Matthew Mamawala, an accountant and
Young Men’s President, father of four, beloved of Bella—
A valiant spirit, soldier of our Savior, a marshal of miniature men.
Second, his counselor, a sober but stoned-seeming surfer and
Matthew’s sister’s spouse and erenow high-school hanger-on, Tare.
’Tis Tare the loyal,
Tare of the bicycle and
the unfinished bachelor’s—
Loyal to the end, counselor and brother.

But these brethren bear not the duties of deacons!
Nay, merely may they manage the kid who carries these keys.
’Tis Wee President Wilkins, formed four foot five;
This brave boy Tim boldly bears the title president of deacons.
Accompanied by his counselor, Harry Pilner, taller yet still small
And, as weekly Wednesday activities will follow,
Harry’s harried sister Melinda, tallest—yet twelve, too.
Three great souls, these
great of heart. Yet
solely dedicated with childlike fervor to
these tasks God hath assigned.

Fitt Two

Matthew Mamawala makes his way westward.
His primary pick-up was Wee President Wilkins,
Then on to Turgood Avenue to the Pilners’ place
Where sister and brother squabble over who shall sit in which seat.
Once settled, the SUV swiftly sweeps southwesterly, soon
Arriving at the abode of Sister Carolyn Carter
And, as she will tell, one d-word: DRAGON.
Outside, all is peaceful
all is calm. Her yard
is green and healthy seeming—yet
peacefulness can, at times, be surface only.

Counselor Tare lay casually collapsed upon bicycular handlebars.
He waves to Wee President Wilkins and assembled soldiery
But Carolyn Carter’s concern could countenance no delay.
A DRAGON, she deemed a higher degree of demand, and she
Raised both hands, requiring her audience’s regard,
Then rendered her troubling tale towards them.
Told too quickly or
too hysterically, she feared they’d
quickly dismiss her
or laugh. But she knew them not.

A DRAGON! cried Carolyn Carter. A DRAGON!
Gray it was—and orange pink and red—and long,
Long as a housecat or two, three squirrels or five,
And at its withers, tall as a young raccoon.
Lithe but not slithy, too slippery for sunlight, reflective, radiant, repulsive.
It could curl its cursed corpse clockwise and counter,
Swerving its sinews round and around posts and plants,
Verily vanishing as soon as spotted
And leaving behind as evidence only the tattered bulbs of tulips.
She held out her hand revealing a benighted bulb,
Iridescent claw marks clearly revealing a DRAGON’s touch.
Wee President Wilkins, Harry, and Melinda gasped and trembled,
Pushing forward to place their fingers upon these traces of terror’s touch,
Gray they were—and orange pink and red—and the sun shone off them like the sea.
DRAGON claws are sharp:
claws and the cuts they leave
are deep and unholy, and
sharp is the deacon who takes care.

Fitt Three

Much praise has passed upon Wee President Wilkins’
Humble manner and his most eager mode of service.
And of Melinda too, president herself, of Beehives,
Both bold woman and righteous child, much has been
And will be told. But between these two
Titans of twelve-year-old temerity stands their bud and
Brother who feels more herald than helpmeet when
Their prepubescent patter pushes his participation to the periphery.
Proud he is, and able, and now he pushes his sister aside
With proclamations of Priesthood!— Perhaps
His vulgarity is not vicious but only vain wish to be seen?
To be seen! To
be known and recognized!
Seen for what may be—and not only what is
today.

Matthew Mamawala, called, clearly, by his capacity for patience,
Placed a hand on each boy’s shoulder, showing
By example and love that the priesthood doth not exclude, but doth
Welcome all to serve. Carolyn Carter questioned this suggestion of “all”
But Melinda mentioned the memory of benevolent Bishop Bartlett himself
Reveling in the Relief Society’s role in performing priesthood,
The fundamental and foundational source of service in God’s Kingdom.
Cowed, Carolyn Carter acquiesced. Then Counselor Tare requested
She bring forth bags, and inward she went to so fulfill.
Harry mumbled a mostly not malign meaculpa to Melinda,
And Tare, the sole soul with experience, told his tale of long ago.
Mission stories, of all
stories, tell
of times when, with God,
all is possible.

The Adriatic. The year of our Lord two thousand three.
Two young elders, twenty and twenty, knocking upon doors to deliver
A holy message, yea, that same message of love and redemption
Restored just generations before, received
A message, from a member, of a DRAGON.
These dreadless elders lunched upon linguini in their apartment as they perused
The missionary handbook and, between doctrine and driving,
They read of DRAGONs and the removal thereof.
They found a burlap bag before bicycling to the member’s manse where
One elder placed his fingers upon the pulse of the other
And tapped his toes until together they could recreate the cardiac rhythm.
One elder held the bag while the other and the member
Clapped in concert, behind the patient bag.
Behind the patient bag
the two they clapped,
patient themselves, watching before the
bag for iridescent signs.

At this point in portraying his proselytizing past,
Counselor Tare paused. Carolyn Carter had returned with a bevy of bags.
Behold! said she, I have brought bags! And bags indeed had she brought.
Counselor Tare took each to hand, opening and pulling and tugging their sides.
The twelve-year-olds coated him in questions and suggestions
Until he lifted one away, a large and tan bag from Lonny and Ted Hardware,
Paper, but powerful, strong enough to carry screws and nails by the pound.
All right, said Counselor Tare, are you prepared to pound your palms in pace
With the pulsing of your living human heart?
And all cried, Aye! save Sister Carolyn Carter,
Who had missed his mission story, but she feigned full fathoming
And clapped confusedly along.
And now the moment!
Now for truth!
The time to give these twelve-year-olds a
momentary glimpse of their spiritual potential!

And lo, in one moment were suburbanites slapping their paws
As the soil lay quiet and the plants unperturbed,
Yet in the next moment the soil shimmered
And the plants were parted by the sinister snout of a DRAGON,
Its wily whiskers curling in the cool air and its fierce fangs
Creeping through curtained mouth—
Its gray limber limbs glistening orange pink and red
As it stepped steadily forward.
Wee President Wilkins gulped but did not conclude his clapping.
President Melinda too kept beat with his heart-based hammering.
And Harry and Carolyn Carter and Matthew Mamawala all,
All beat back terror with their coordinated clapping
As the clawed creature crept closer, coming ever clapward,
Its flaming flesh siphoning sunlight
While its jewel-like eyes stared starkly toward the paper cave
From which it heard human hearts heaving, heaving, heaving.
Cave-born are DRAGONs,
born and bred. They
are drawn to darkness, are
DRAGONs, darkness and life.

The glistening gleam of DRAGONflesh flared,
Stabbing sunlight into their unshaded spheres of sight.
Hold fast! cried Counselor Tare to his clappers
And each clapped more clamorously, their hands heated
By the blood boiling just beneath blisters barely unformed.
Hold! cried Wee President Wilkins and indeed: his
Counterpart and counselor both, now truly twins,
Pounded on powerfully, their violent volume violating the perfumed vernal air.
Hold! cried the maiden Melinda, inspiring
The otherwise demure president of deacons to
Demonstrate his DRAGON-attracting rhythm more rowdily.
And behold they did malleate in time with their mortal metronomes
Until the gray-gleaming DRAGON, orange pink and red,
Felt his way fully into the paper bag of both Lonny and Ted.
With one quick move,
One lift and fold and
quick rolldown, Tare held the un-
moving DRAGON at peace and in darkness.

Fitt Four

That’s it? queried Carolyn Carter, concerned someone should say otherwise.
That’s it, sis, said Tare, holding aloft the captured creature.
Maybe after Mutual I’ll take it some ways south and release it at the seaside
Where cliff-dwelling DRAGONs are, I hear, happiest.
Whether Carolyn Carter cared about DRAGONly dispositions is doubtful
For the delivered damsel deigned no reply but recused herself.
Righteous regard filled her humble heroes as they high-fived.
The once-children chatted and well-kenned their conquest
As they slid into the SUV and seatbelted themselves in preparation
For passage to Mutual—and maybe more priesthood responsibilities.
Wee President Wilkins and his counterpart President Melinda
Sat side by side while Harry hollered hyuck!
But they did not perceive his repulsion as they planned positive possibilities
And inhaled the air of arriving adulthood.
Matthew Mamawala and his sister’s spouse listened
But did neither laugh nor make light.
For had not these deacons (and counterpart) delivered on today’s duty?
Twelve a gateway is,
a chance to rise and pass through the
gate away from childhood and into what
is God’s vision: HERO.