Rain Renaissance

This poem is about those times when you drift away from God and, by the time you realize it, you feel like there’s no way you can get back to Him.  Then He comes and brings you back without you having to do it all yourself.  Or, it’s kind of about those times you lose your inspiration, and something brings it back.  And it’s also kind of about rain–because I love rain:

How it began, I scarcely can know—

Did I sleep?  Did I dream?

Did it happen so slow

That I did not notice my soul growing old?

When food has no savor,

When mint isn’t so fresh;

When hues hold no magic

And new stories are dead;

When strings’ gentle harmonies rattle like lead

And grating old rhymes resound in my head—

I know then

I’ve slid down a hill of wet glass

Into a vacuum, a chasm, a void.

I’m a drifter in space with no gravity

And can’t think of a single thing to save me.

Then it comes:

Dust on the windshield,

Fresh pricks on dry skin,

Dots on the concrete,

Tears from the slate ceiling,

Melody on the car roof,

Celestial sprinklers without

Washing away the darkness within,

And the thick curtain a prism

Twice-arcing hope in the sky:

You save me when nothing else can,

And I am reborn.

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About A Daughter's Story

I'm an author and a teacher exploring the world and the stories and ideas it holds.
This entry was posted in Mostly Theological, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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