Rain

Maybe the raindrops

are God’s tears.

Maybe the clouds

are the accumulation of His

brow-furrowed

fist-clenched

heart-broken

remembrances of the

sin that severs us strangers.

Maybe the storm

is is his passion for his children.

He sees their scars;

he heeds their husky sobs,

and the skies open

to spill His aching heart.

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