The Rain
I shed a tear of joy to learn there is no hell—in spite of Testament and Qur’an—no God
So sick—I find the God who loves the earth he made for people—made verily for his son
And himself—the God who snatches not away his gift of mercy—our hope—our sustenance—
The God who grieves that turned away—have we—his loving hand—his tree of life—
I find myself—born—plunged into a world torn and fractured—
I hate the hatred and see myself no different—torn and fractured—
I wonder if a drop of love can make a difference—
And realize a rain of love has fallen—is falling still—
The earth is green with arms of love in return—raised with us—my readers—unto
Our God—people torn and fractured sometimes raise frightful hands to God—
Or struggle in a loneliness that raindrops miss—
They find such sadness as the earth remains a grave.
We look so hard to find how love
Is worthy of our God.
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