Whispers In The Rain

The warm spring rain fell like yesterdays tears upon my face.
I saw an angel…I heard the soft knowing whisper of my name.
I closed my eyes to the warm wetness of the falling rain.
I winced as I remembered the idiom of my pain.

A clap of stark thunder broke the wet silence of my somber recollection.

A small bird sitting nearby laughed aloud, and squirrels danced on dead limbs.

I turned my face away in bitter disgust from the now rancid cold rain.

I looked down, not up and saw that my feet were now made of clay.

 The earth crept upward as it was as if it and I were becoming as one.

The ground began to shake and consume everything around me.

The bird that once laughed fell dead from the sky above.

The squirrels danced no more, but prayed shamelessly aloud.

The rain continued amidst a glowing sun like silver bullets from heaven.

The forest of trees wept and knelt down, the rocks of the field began to sing.

A trumpet sounded, and angels no longer whispered, but boldly announced a King.

I looked to the East and saw the sky split asunder, and I was gone…

No more to feel the rain…nevermore to feel the darkness of pain.

Never again to see the yesterdays of sorrow, only to forever know a new tomorrow.

Now the sun shone boldly upon my face and I could feel the wind beneath my feet.

Heaven bound by His grace am I, for it was He who whispered my name.

J. Allen Wilson © 3/26/2010