Poetry

Winter Rains (and Spirit Pains)

Photo by Antonio Dillard on Pexels.com

By: JANA GREENE

Hi, Readers. I wrote this poem at 18 years of age, during a really difficult time of upheaval. It rained and rained and rained that winter. I feel like maybe God gave this jumble of words to me at just the right time. So, read gently please. I was just a kid. Blessed be, friends.

The winter rains are cooler now,

The mystic love, it floods my soul,

Gray and blue from above,

And soft brown ground below.

The winter rains seem freer now,

In liberation they have cried,

As water from the sky

Is unrelenting, so I try

To let it flood me,

Embrace the rain,

So I can feel whole again.

I feel no more the dreadful fear,

That made my soul to hate the rain,

The downfalls, they lay bare my soul,

Until I’m drenched again.

The winter rains are plentiful,

But I see them now as water flows,

A season I choose to live quenched,

A season in which I can grow.

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