A poem of mourning written the day we were supposed to leave for our honeymoon to Kauai


High sky descends to low ground,

Leafs frolic as rains pound,

Lofty trees submerged in Gray.

World bereft of rhythm,

Reveals internal schism,

My faith begins to sway.

Our perfect plans of sunshine fail,

Water floods this dismal vale,

Not supposed to be this way.

I shake my fist and cry out Why,

Should dreary drown out clear blue sky,

Hope is a dwindling ray.

Living Waters quench parched earth,

Prompt valley’s fruits to rebirth

Rains they require, not sun today.

Baptize me, push me under,

Purify me with thunder,

Build Your kingdom here, Yahweh.

I am washed by the water,

For You are the Potter,

and I have always been the clay.

psalm51-10

October 22, 2016

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