Rain

Rain

Anxious feelings stir
as the rain approaches.
Not because of the storm-
but the drought within me.

 My Soul thirsts--
cracked and parched
as the Painted Desert.

In the distance
the Thunder gently rolls
announcing the arrival of
the Thunder beings
bringing the much needed rain.;
the nourishment and cleaning I need.

Like the parched grass- I wait.
The fist drops kiss my skin;
Then another
and
another

Relief.

In the rumble of the thunder
I hear the Sacred Voice as it whispers-
‘Drink, let me quench your thirst Daughter
and wash away the dust that clouds your Vision.’

To the Great Sky Nation
I raise my face.
The rain washes me gently.
As it mingles with my tears,
it refreshes my Soul.

Marianne Goldweber