Poetry

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Will we ever understand the meaning of the rain?
Is there meaning in such a thing,
Or is it done in vain?

How can such a thing, with sustaining power of life,
Be the taker of the same,
In day or dark of night

The questions that it brings, with every vicious flood,
Answers no longer granted
With the sending of a dove

The history it has given, the nations it has wiped away
A tool used by God
To bring a brand new day

I remember standing alone, atop my parents’ grave
My head clogged with anger
And my heart full of rage

Looking faithlessly up to the sky
A young naïve boy
With questions of why

And then a raindrop fell, tapping on my shoulder
A chill filled my spine
Fury, beginning to smolder

I stood there seething in wrath
My tears joining the rain
That fell along the path

The pain began to lift and arms embraced me in love
As I did realize what this was,
The Lord crying from above

Then I came to realize what rain was truly for
To wipe away the tears
That Death brought to my door

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