Praying for Rain

The ground
Is parched
Grass once green
And inviting
Grows brown
Crunching
Beneath my feet
Trees struggle
To survive
Their leaves
Hanging on
For it’s too soon
For them to fall
One single spark
And the results
Would be
Devastating
Praying for rain

The Earth
Is parched
Tears shed in
Sadness and grief
But also in
Reconciliation
All dried up
People struggle
To survive
Their children
Hanging on
For it’s too soon
For them to fall
One single spark
And the results
Would be
Devastating
Praying for rain

How can this be?
Seems only yesterday
The ground was wet
With the tears of an entire world-
Are there no more left to cry?
I do not believe so, but what is the answer-

My soul
Is thirsty
Longing for
A cool breeze
A steady rain
Not a storm
Filled with
Lightening
And thunder
No loud voices
Sharing dissent
For all to hear
Instead, the quiet
Whisper of love
Sent in raindrops
Coaxing our tears
To once again join in
Watering the ground

What’s That Sound?

I was listening to This American Life podcast on my way home yesterday. https://www.thisamericanlife.org/766/well-someone-had-to-do-something The stories were humorous, unusual, inspiring, and thought-provoking. But the two related to current events in Ukraine…well, words are hard to find.

One of the stories is about a man working to change the flow of misinformation to the people of Russia. He randomly calls individuals seeking to engage in conversation about what is happening in Ukraine. He is often met with anger, arguments, and hang-ups.

But sometimes, the person on the other end listens, even if briefly. Responding quietly, if at all. His explanation-Fear has its own sound, you know.

I have breathed
The sigh of relief
Heard pure joy
Thru the laughter
Of my children
Expressed grief
With sounds
Of sobbing
But what about fear?
How does it sound?
The thought
Brings
Only silence
Halts
My hurried mind
Until heard
In the voices
Of others
Voices afraid
The next city
Destroyed
Will be their own
Voices afraid
They may never
See family again
Even voices afraid
To hear
Or speak
The truth
Others work
To forever
Keep hidden-
Listen…
Do you hear
The sound
Of their fears?

Simply Sunday

Do We Truly See?

Today feels
Anything
But simple
It feels torn
I feel torn
Sunshine skies
In front of me
Clear and blue
A stark contrast
To the images
Of gray skies
Streets filled with
Ash and rubble
Seen on the news-
My mind knows
And history tells us
Not all people
Are free or safe
From the exploits
Of evil men
Yet, my heart
Is unable
To reconcile-
An image of
A Ukrainian mom
Her only thought
Protecting her family
From surrounding
Destruction and death…
I cannot know
The heaviness
Of her heart
Yet, I must not look away
Watching
Praying
For a glimmer of hope
A family reunited
While never
Forgetting
Images snapped
By cameras-
Images of death
And innocence stolen
For all the world to see-
Do we truly see?

Morning News

I sit quietly
In my house
This morning
Drinking hot tea
Watching the morning news
Never having experienced the kind of fear
That would cause me to flee my home
Searching for a place of safety
A shelter under the ground
Where explosions above
That will destroy my home
And those of my friends and family
Cannot reach my children
I don’t know that kind of fear
Not fear of natural disasters
Unavoidable depending on location
But fear of weapons
Created by man
Neighbor against neighbor
Strong overtaking weak
Seeking what?
Power and greed
Seem the most common answers-
I sit quietly
In my house
This morning
Unable to erase the image
Of a precious little girl
On the morning news
Her big eyes filled with tears
Hiding underground
Unable to block
The sounds of bombs
Exploding on the surface
Perhaps I should not try
To erase her image
Instead, let it sear into my memory
Reminding me to pray for light
To find her in that dark place