The rain drips down on the tin roof of the neighbor’s garden shed. I close my eyes, and hope the day will pass me by.
Not me Lord.
Just let me lay here in bed listening to the rain like a Mother’s heartbeat.
But I surrender to the yoke of responsibility, and climb from my sleep warm bed, to face another day.
The rain falls steady against the windshield. As soon as the wipers swab them clear, they return, to run in rivulets of tears.
The city is just a shadow behind a veil of green water. The clouds float like grey bubbles in a dishwashers sink. I drive on beneath them, leaving plumes of water like rooster tails behind me.
Wash us clean.
Let our tears soak like raindrops into the loamy soil. Let them water our love.
This is what makes us human.
Turning willingly, towards our cross,
This is what makes us divine.