Rainy Day Reflections

A rainy day, clouds cover the mountain,

She arose, much like she always has

greeted by dogs with thumping tails

Another day, another morning.

The gift of life and breath and feeling.


She is slow, her brain sluggish

A slow learner, despite His efforts to teach

But she is learning

She is beginning to see that many things thought to be awful

Are indeed gifts from His hand.


Were everything as she wanted it to be

were the coffers overflowing with gold

were the ones she loves so decked in finery

with wineglasses in hand

drinking deep from all this world offers.


Were these things so where would she be?

She would be ignorant of grace

Bereft of thanksgiving

Lost in a world of decadant plenty and unaware

of the Giver of grace.


With sorrow He has taught her

With grief she has grown

With fear she has been driven to her knees

Trials she has no hope of overcoming

Drive her to the Overcomer of Trials. 

  She is content.

   She waits in peace.

      For He is enough........

       ......and it's all grace.






The Silence From Heaven

These dark nights,

These dismal days,

When I cannot sense Your presence

I know You are with me,

But I cannot feel it

I seek You but You do not respond

I cry out but You do not speak

And then it becomes so difficult

To even cry out

Difficult to seek

Prayer is a labor

And apathy seeps in

Lord you know how I hate apathy

And yet here it is

Right there in my soul

Help me to remember

All the times past

When I felt so alone

Yet You were there

I just could not see

Nor feel

But I believed

Faith is the substance

Of things hoped for

The evidence of

Things not seen

I know this truth

Yet to feel You

Makes me so alive

And to not feel You

So dead

Lord reach down

And touch my soul

That I might feel

Your presence.

Break my heart

With the things that break Yours

Crush the apathy

For it is better to be pushed down

By the sorrows of others

Than to feel nothing

Such a divided soul I am

Crying out that the burden is too great

The suffering too much

Oh to not feel for the sufferings of others!

And yet when it leaves me

I am lost without it.

Oh Lord return to me

Rip out this human heart

And restore to me Yours.

And then come along side

And bear the yoke with me

One more hill

As my son would say.

       I have found the Christian life to be one of valleys  and hills and high mountain tops. On the hills He is a constant presence, as if He were walking right there with you as a friend, on the mountain tops His presence so strong and holy that you cannot even stand before it but must fall on your face and tremble at His power and majesty, but then there are the valleys where you find yourself walking, seemingly alone, crying out to Him, Lord where are You? I have walked many hills, stood upon many mountain tops and trudged through many valleys. He never leaves you. Even in the valley, even in the silence He is there. Trust Him.

 Many wrongly assume that His absence is because something has gone wrong, this is not the case. In truth He is not absent at all, He is merely silent. Think of Joseph, sold into slavery, wrongly accused, imprisoned......I imagine he walked through some very deep valleys. Yet all the while God was working, moving, building and bringing about a great work.

   I feel the valley today, it's not a deep one, but it is there. Prayer comes hard right now, everything is a struggle, for some time now I have felt His presence so strong, so sure, so certain, and today scares me a bit. How long Lord? How deep this valley? I pray it is but a short one, perhaps a day or two. None the less, enough has passed that I know my Redeemer. He has not left, He has not stepped out, He is but silent for a time.

http://www.faithgateway.com/when-you-cant-feel-god/#.VsyYH-TSnIU


Heart Squeezed Out

World filled to brim with sorrow,

cringing from the pain

behind its closed doors

trapped within the fake smiles.

So much suffering.


Why do I feel it so,

why such overpowering,

empathy for the abused,

tears for the hurting?

Crying out for the broken..


Why this gift, this curse,

of bearing their sorrow?

It is too much for me,

my soul cringes

with the pain of their wounds.


And yet to this,

You have called me,

taken my heart of stone,

replaced with one that bleeds,

gushing blood staining my shoes.


No gifts of riches

to ease their way,

no healing touch,

to remove their disease.

Just words "I see you, I care for you!"


How empty the words

feel to my soul

as I speak them in love

to the broken ones,

while prayers rise from my heart.


Heart squeezed out

like empty sponge

nothing left to give,

curled up in heap

upon the floor...no more! no more!


I crawl to You,

Lord take this pain,

exchange it for Your love,

to fill  my empty squeezed out heart

that I might rise again.


Your hand reached down

and took my heart

squeezed out dry and frail.

I watched You fill it to the brim

with grace and peace and love.


I stood on legs

that quaked and shook

I stood with outstretched hands

to receive the blood filled heart

as You place it in my chest.


It was filled with but a taste

an inkling of the love

that You poured out, upon a cross

on that hill so long ago.

A love that none deserve.


So called to be Your hands and feet

and called to show Your love,

for broken ones and hurting ones,

I rise to carry on.

Fresh heart within my breast.


He is enough, Christ is enough!

All is grace

The race goes on

Run, run, run!

Every moment matters.


Attempts at Poetry

Snow Swirling on a Cold Winter’s Day

The low clouds move in fast,

Across the face of the Sandias.

One moment the mountain is visible

And the next it is gone.

Hidden in deep clouds.

Snow begins to fall,

Swirling in the wind

Falling in spiral

Cold in my bones,

Down to the core.

Softly it falls,

Frail little snowflakes

Dancing to the earth

Then fading from sight.

Winter so cold,

Like death

Nothing stirs

Birds huddle close

On frozen lines

Too cold to seek food

Miserable birds,

Snow swirling around them,

How they yearn,

For spring

Like I yearn for home,

A sure hope,

But a long wait.

I wait with them,

Cold in my bones

Down to the core

As the snow softly swirls

In the winter wind.

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Today My Friend Buries Her Son

Today my friend buries her son,

He was 23 years old,

Handsome and vibrant,

Beautiful brown eyes,

He reminds me of my Adam,

One day everything was normal,

And the next he was gone.

And today she lays him in the ground.

What words of comfort can one offer

For such a time as this?

Words escape me,

Therefore I pray,

That the sorrow in my soul

Will rise up on wings

And fly to her

And she will know

That I weep….

 

The death of a child

To lay them in the ground

Is a deep fear of mine

Darkness fought against

Prayers upon prayers

Lifted to the heavens

On knees

Face down on floor

I know this fear

But I know not the reality.

Today my friend lives this reality

And buries her beloved son.

 

What comfort can I offer

What comfort is there

When one lays a child in the ground

Such things should not be

It is not normal

Should be the child

Laying us to rest

Words of comfort escape me

I have none

Only sorrow

And the hope, the sure hope

That You are there.

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A Mother's Tears


I sit and watch the tears

slide slowly down her cheek,

Tears I have cried so many times,

I see them,

I feel them

as if they were mine,

For they are mine.

A mothers tears,

a mothers burden,

A heavy one,

pressing down hard,

Prayers expressed on bended knee,

Burdens pressing down,

They sap the strength,

They rip the very fabric of the soul,

Prayers expressed through tears that fall,

A mothers tears.

I see your tears,

They are mine.

Lets shed them together.

Lord hear our prayers,

Lord behold our tears,

Lord carry our burdens,

Lord grant us strength,

Lord heal our wounded souls,

Not for us Oh Lord,

But for our children we pray,

You who remember

the tears of a mother,

as she looked upon You,

Torn and bleeding,

Beautiful precious son,

Murdered on a bloody tree.

You spoke to the disciple,

Son behold your mother.

You see us,

You love us,

You hear us,

Our tears carefully collected,

In Your bottle.

We lay our children down,

at Your feet,

Because we believe,

Lord we believe.

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Winter Is Coming, Long Lonely Winter 

The snow crunches softly under his huge feet,

His thick black fur rustles softly in the frigid wind,

He sniffs the wind carefully,

His senses heightened,

He smells something, something in the wind,

He knows this scent,

it has crossed the nostrils of thousands of his ancestors across the length of history,

This is no rabbit he smells, no elk, nothing edible,

In fact this scent brings the foreboding knowledge that meat will be lacking,

It will be difficult, his brothers and sisters will suffer much,

They will labor long and hard for their prey.

This smell upon his nostrils, this scent in the wind,

It is winter, long hard brutal winter,

Deep snow drifts, iced over ponds,

Prey desperately digging for the frozen grass deep beneath the snow,

Winter is coming, long, lonely winter,

He lifts his head and howls,

Across the miles his brothers and sisters join him,

Great heads lifted to the night sky,

Howling, Howling, Howling,

Winter is coming, long hard winter,

Long, lonely winter,

Beware!

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Words

Words spoken fade upon the wind,

If lucky perhaps one or two will be remembered,

Or perhaps people will just say “she spoke often of this or that”

Without really remembering the words.

 

All those conversations,

All those attempts to get your message out,

Lost and forgotten for the most part,

Words spoken fade upon the wind.

 

Written words hold more hope,

They can capture your thoughts

And hold them for a time

Until said time and elements degrade them into dust.

 

I look back on my childhood,

Wishing I could go back

I would take notes this time

I would capture his words on paper.

 

I remember now how he tried so hard to impart his thoughts

Tried to put them into me, make them mine

He prayed for them to stick

But now, all I have is “he spoke often of this or that”.

 

The exact words are lost to me

Words spoken fade upon the wind

I wish I had paid more attention

Wish I had grasped the importance of it all.

 

So now I write words down,

In hopes that one day they will be read

That one day they will be cherished

That one day they will be understood.

 

Words spoken fade on the wind,

Words written crumble to dust over time,

But the Word of the Lord stands forever.

And that is enough for me.

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Winter

Days of winter,

Winds howling cold and bitter,

Birds huddled in trees,

Snow covered mountain top.

Brown dead vegetation,

Much like the hard times,

When you wait with baited breath,

For the warmth and promise of a new tomorrow,

The appearance of death,

At first glance,

But upon keen observation,

Life goes on,

The birds seek out food

The rabbits leave their tracks,

The coyotes sing in the winter night,

Inhale deep,

The cold crisp air,

Feel the wind cutting through your jacket,

Gaze upwards,

Into the cold dark winter night,

See the stars,

Brilliantly shining,

Inhale deep,

The cold crisp air,

Alive, life, even in the winter of things.

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Weathermen

 What strange creatures

These weathermen

Whose work is to predict

The coming day

I stand in

The swirling snow

Perplexed

As my weather app

Tells me zero %

Chance

Of precipitation.

Perhaps I alone

Am blessed to see

This falling snow

In dawns faint light

And the rest of the city

Is bathing in the warmth

Of the rising sun.

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Beautiful New Mexico

Mountain range

Covered in snow

Sun glinting on rugged peaks

Shining like gold in the evening light.

Spectacular beauty!

Brown fields of wild grass

Filled with wild geese

They take flight slowly

Like awkward teenagers

Then suddenly graceful in perfect unity they fly.

Black volcanic rock

As far as I can see

Rugged mesa, remnants of molten lava

Coyote headed out to hunt

Desolate beauty.

High mountain lakes,

Tall pines singing in the wind,

Utter stillness and peace,

Apart from the wind song.

A place to be still and know.


Lush green Valles Caldera

Formed from volcano

Elk roam wild and free

The herd stretched out

across the valley,

Takes your breath away.



Dark Night  of The Soul

I lay quietly upon my bed,

Gazing out the open window,

Darkness is upon the earth

With points of light shining

I see the light begin to reflect

Upon the crest of the mountain

As the sun begins its slow climb

The dark so cold and frigid

Earth awaits the warmth of sun

My life of late is like the day

Of darkness and of light

Sorrows in the deepest night

With points of light shining

And when it is more than I can bear

I see the light upon the crest of mountains

The Son of glory shining grace

He rises slow some times it seems

But then there are the times of noon

When His love and grace are clear

And I bask in His glory

But of late night always falls

Coming slowly, warmth fading

Replaced by fear and sorrow

Dark night of soul

Falls upon me

And I wait

I wait

I wait

For Son to come.


SUNDAY

Sunday

Blue skies

White fluffy clouds

Setting off for church

To worship the Lord Jesus

Such a beautiful fine winter day

A short prayer walk along the Bosque

Prepares my heart to worship Him in truth

Asking His blessings upon the service and the people

Giving Him the mornings disappointments that have offset my peace.

Watching the sun shine down through the cottonwood trees

Twisting mighty cottonwoods reaching up to the sky

Winding path through the golden brown grass

Calls and bids me walk along

Birds singing from tall trees

Gentle breeze blows past

As I walk

The Bosque

Today

A Poem About Love Without Saying Love

My heart fills with a warmth
my eyes fill with tears
my soul hurts within me
I am moved to do, to act, to move
to pray, to beseech the God of heaven...
to reach down and touch you.
I awake in the night with your name upon my heart
the God of everything reminding me to pray
for you, for your situation.
This gift, this burden, no wonderful trait of mine
to which I was born and cultivated over years,
It is nothing of me
It is all of Him
for He is ..........

A Mother's Tears

I sit and watch the tears

slide slowly down her cheek,

Tears I have cried so many times,

I see them,

I feel them

as if they were mine,

For they are mine.

A mothers tears,

a mothers burden,

A heavy one,

pressing down hard,

Prayers expressed on bended knee,

Burdens pressing down,

They sap the strength,

They rip the very fabric of the soul,

Prayers expressed through tears that fall,

A mothers tears.

I see your tears,

They are mine.

Lets shed them together.

Lord hear our prayers,

Lord behold our tears,

Lord carry our burdens,

Lord grant us strength,

Lord heal our wounded souls,

Not for us Oh Lord,

But for our children we pray,

You who remember

the tears of a mother,

as she looked upon You,

Torn and bleeding,

Beautiful precious son,

Murdered on a bloody tree.

You spoke to the disciple,

Son behold your mother.

You see us,

You love us,

You hear us,

Our tears carefully collected,

In Your bottle.

We lay our children down,

at Your feet,

Because we believe,

Lord we believe.



Artwork by astarvinartist entitled A Mother's Tears

A Mother


Poem by Donna Griego

Winter Is Coming...Long, Lonely Winter

The snow crunches softly under his huge feet,

His thick black fur rustles softly in the frigid wind,

He sniffs the wind carefully,

His senses heightened,

He smells something, something in the wind,

He knows this scent,

it has crossed the nostrils of thousands of his ancestors across the length of history,

This is no rabbit he smells, no elk, nothing edible,

In fact this scent brings the foreboding knowledge that meat will be lacking,

It will be difficult, his brothers and sisters will suffer much,

They will labor long and hard for their prey.

This smell upon his nostrils, this scent in the wind,

It is winter, long hard brutal winter,

Deep snow drifts, iced over ponds,

Prey desperately digging for the frozen grass deep beneath the snow,

Winter is coming, long, lonely winter,

He lifts his head and howls,

Across the miles his brothers and sisters join him,

Great heads lifted to the night sky,

Howling, Howling, Howling,

Winter is coming, long hard winter,

Long, lonely winter,

Beware!

A writing exercise asking for a poem regarding animals and weather predictions. It is said that he wolves howl long and hard when they sense a deep hard winter.


Words

Words spoken fade upon the wind,

If lucky perhaps one or two will be remembered,

Or perhaps people will just say “she spoke often of this or that”

Without really remembering the words.

 

All those conversations,

All those attempts to get your message out,

Lost and forgotten for the most part,

Words spoken fade upon the wind.

 

Written words hold more hope,

They can capture your thoughts

And hold them for a time

Until said time and elements degrade them into dust.

 

I look back on my childhood,

Wishing I could go back

I would take notes this time

I would capture his words on paper.

 

I remember now how he tried so hard to impart his thoughts

Tried to put them into me, make them mine

He prayed for them to stick

But now, all I have is “he spoke often of this or that”.

 

The exact words are lost to me

Words spoken fade upon the wind

I wish I had paid more attention

Wish I had grasped the importance of it all.

 

So now I write words down,

In hopes that one day they will be read

That one day they will be cherished

That one day they will be understood.

 

Words spoken fade on the wind,

Words written crumble to dust over time,

But the Word of the Lord stands forever.

And that is enough for me.


Exercise in Acrostic Poetry

Peace With God

Peace, a much sought after quality,

Earnestly we seek it,

Always desiring it,

Can't seem to find it,

Elusive peace.


With God alone is true peace possible,

In Him there is perfect peace,

Total peace, perfect peace,

Heart soothing peace.


God is peace!

Only in Him will you find it,

Desire of Him brings it.


Beauty

Beauty surrounds me,

Everywhere I look,

All is grace,

Utter beauty,

Total awe,

You are an awesome God!

Hektor

Hektor is my big white dog,

Everywhere he follows me,

Knows my moods, senses my needs,

Totally devoted,

Only a dog,

Rare, priceless friend


Samson

Samson is silly,

Always questing,

Mischievous in motion,

Sniffing and digging,

Often a nuisance,

Nonetheless loved.



Summer

Summer is here in all it's blazing heat,

Ultraviolet rays burn the flesh,

Mornings are the cool refreshing times,

Murderous heat quickly follows,

Everywhere dry and parched,

Ravenous for relief.



Grace

Grace amazes me,

Radical grace,

Abounding grace,

Captivating grace,

Everywhere grace.


Morning

Morning has broken,

Opalescent sky,

Radiant the sun,

Night has passed

Ignescent rays stream forth,

Nearby birds sing joyfully,

God is present, God is good!



Bella's New Shoes

Bella got new shoes today!

Earthbound she was not.

Leaping into the air,

Lost her new shoes!

After we put them on again,

Settled in them she was.


New doggie shoes!

Efficient for walking.

Wayfaring shoes.


Shoes for Miss Bella,

High lifting feet,

Onward she goes,

Elevated steps,

Sassy Miss Bella.


WORK

Work calls to me.

Obligation beckons.

Resistance is futile.

Knowing this, I go.


STORM

Storm rolls in,

Thunder booms and roars,

Onstage the lighting dances,

Rain pours down in violent sheets,

Morning breaks fresh and clean.


TIRED FEET

Tired, tired feet I have,

itching to be free of heavy boots.

Red hot feet, tired feet.

Ecstatic at the thought of freedom.


Feet, sore, tired, aching feet.

Electrified feet, yearning for relief.

Eager for air.

Tired aching feet.


NEW GOLF CLUBS

New golf clubs,

excited husband,

waiting, waiting, to take them out.


Golf clubs shiny and new,

 outrageously priced in my opinion.

Loving gift bestowed on husband.

For his enjoyment and delight.


Clubs to replace those

lost to a thief

unknown to us

but God knows them.

So we leave it in His hands.


TREE SONG

Tree branches stirring in the wind,

rustling leaves, softly singing, 

enthralling music to ears that hear.

Eldritch song, creation crying out.


Song of the trees,

oft unheard by those with stopped ears,

nature singing to her Creator.

"God is worthy of praise! "




Winter......

Days of winter,

Winds howling cold and bitter,

Birds huddled in trees,

Snow covered mountain top.

Brown dead vegetation,

Much like the hard times,

When you wait with baited breath,

For the warmth and promise of a new tomorrow,

The appearance of death,

At first glance,

But upon keen observation,

Life goes on,

The birds seek out food

The rabbits leave their tracks,

The coyotes sing in the winter night,

Inhale deep,

The cold crisp air,

Feel the wind cutting through your jacket,

Gaze upwards,

Into the cold dark winter night,

See the stars,

Brilliantly shining,

Inhale deep,

The cold crisp air,

Alive, life, even in the winter of things.

 (I did not take the photographs displayed here, they are taken from beautiful photos I have found on the internet.

Renascence (the revival of something that has been dormant)

  Much has been written about the poem Renascence, written in 1912, by poet Edna St. Vincent Millay. Many say it speaks of personal death, some say it speaks of the death of a child, and some say it speaks of the death of a soul and its rebirth. I would be in the latter category. To me it speaks of an injured soul, a wounded soul coming back to life, seeing things from a different perspective, being reborn, stepping from darkness where death is sought and desired, back into light where life is beautiful and precious.

 The poem is beautiful and haunting. I try to read a little bit of poetry here and there, and it was interesting that this was the poem that came up for my reading today. On the way to work this morning I was thinking about all the sorrow in the world, all the suffering, thinking about how things will be when God one day makes all things right, thinking of His grace poured out upon a suffering world, and how my Lord must feel when He looks down upon us in the midst of suffering. He was always most compassionant of the downtrodden ones, when He walked this earth so long ago. He Himself is well aquainted with suffering. All of this was on my mind this morning.

 And then this afternoon, I opened up my book to this poem. It seemed to fit so well with all that was stirring in my soul today.

 The poem is long, but it is so very well worth your time in reading it. I read it aloud, to myself, for some reason sometimes words sink in all the more for me when I read them aloud.

Renascence

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

All I could see from where I stood
Was three long mountains and a wood;
I turned and looked another way,
And saw three islands in a bay.
So with my eyes I traced the line 
Of the horizon, thin and fine,
Straight around till I was come
Back to where I'd started from; 
And all I saw from where I stood
Was three long mountains and a wood.

Over these things I could not see;
These were the things that bounded me;
And I could touch them with my hand,
Almost, I thought, from where I stand.
And all at once things seemed so small
My breath came short, and scarce at all.

But, sure, the sky is big, I said;
Miles and miles above my head;
So here upon my back I'll lie
And look my fill into the sky.
And so I looked, and, after all,
The sky was not so very tall.
The sky, I said, must somewhere stop,
And -- sure enough! -- I see the top! 
The sky, I thought, is not so grand;
I 'most could touch it with my hand!
And reaching up my hand to try,
I screamed to feel it touch the sky.

I screamed, and -- lo! -- Infinity
Came down and settled over me;
Forced back my scream into my chest,
Bent back my arm upon my breast,
And, pressing of the Undefined
The definition on my mind,
Held up before my eyes a glass
Through which my shrinking sight did pass
Until it seemed I must behold
Immensity made manifold;
Whispered to me a word whose sound
Deafened the air for worlds around,
And brought unmuffled to my ears
The gossiping of friendly spheres,
The creaking of the tented sky,
The ticking of Eternity.

I saw and heard, and knew at last
The How and Why of all things, past,
And present, and forevermore.
The Universe, cleft to the core,
Lay open to my probing sense
That, sick'ning, I would fain pluck thence
But could not, -- nay! But needs must suck
At the great wound, and could not pluck
My lips away till I had drawn
All venom out. -- Ah, fearful pawn!
For my omniscience paid I toll
In infinite remorse of soul.

All sin was of my sinning, all
Atoning mine, and mine the gall
Of all regret. Mine was the weight 
Of every brooded wrong, the hate
That stood behind each envious thrust,
Mine every greed, mine every lust.

And all the while for every grief,
Each suffering, I craved relief
With individual desire, --
Craved all in vain! And felt fierce fire
About a thousand people crawl;
Perished with each, -- then mourned for all!

A man was starving in Capri;
He moved his eyes and looked at me;
I felt his gaze, I heard his moan,
And knew his hunger as my own.
I saw at sea a great fog bank
Between two ships that struck and sank;
A thousand screams the heavens smote;
And every scream tore through my throat.

No hurt I did not feel, no death
That was not mine; mine each last breath
That, crying, met an answering cry
From the compassion that was I.
All suffering mine, and mine its rod;
Mine, pity like the pity of God.

Ah, awful weight! Infinity
Pressed down upon the finite Me!
My anguished spirit, like a bird,
Beating against my lips I heard;
Yet lay the weight so close about
There was no room for it without.
And so beneath the weight lay I
And suffered death, but could not die.

Long had I lain thus, craving death,
When quietly the earth beneath
Gave way, and inch by inch, so great
At last had grown the crushing weight,
Into the earth I sank till I
Full six feet under ground did lie,
And sank no more, -- there is no weight
Can follow here, however great.
From off my breast I felt it roll,
And as it went my tortured soul
Burst forth and fled in such a gust
That all about me swirled the dust.

Deep in the earth I rested now;
Cool is its hand upon the brow
And soft its breast beneath the head
Of one who is so gladly dead.
And all at once, and over all
The pitying rain began to fall;
I lay and heard each pattering hoof
Upon my lowly, thatched roof,
And seemed to love the sound far more
Than ever I had done before.
For rain it hath a friendly sound
To one who's six feet underground;
And scarce the friendly voice or face:
A grave is such a quiet place.

The rain, I said, is kind to come
And speak to me in my new home.
I would I were alive again
To kiss the fingers of the rain,
To drink into my eyes the shine
Of every slanting silver line,
To catch the freshened, fragrant breeze
From drenched and dripping apple-trees.
For soon the shower will be done,
And then the broad face of the sun
Will laugh above the rain-soaked earth
Until the world with answering mirth
Shakes joyously, and each round drop
Rolls, twinkling, from its grass-blade top.

How can I bear it; buried here,
While overhead the sky grows clear
And blue again after the storm?
O, multi-colored, multiform,
Beloved beauty over me,
That I shall never, never see
Again! Spring-silver, autumn-gold,
That I shall never more behold!
Sleeping your myriad magics through,
Close-sepulchred away from you!
O God, I cried, give me new birth,
And put me back upon the earth!
Upset each cloud's gigantic gourd
And let the heavy rain, down-poured
In one big torrent, set me free,
Washing my grave away from me!

I ceased; and through the breathless hush
That answered me, the far-off rush
Of herald wings came whispering
Like music down the vibrant string
Of my ascending prayer, and -- crash!
Before the wild wind's whistling lash
The startled storm-clouds reared on high
And plunged in terror down the sky,
And the big rain in one black wave
Fell from the sky and struck my grave.

I know not how such things can be;
I only know there came to me
A fragrance such as never clings
To aught save happy living things;
A sound as of some joyous elf
Singing sweet songs to please himself,
And, through and over everything,
A sense of glad awakening.
The grass, a-tiptoe at my ear,
Whispering to me I could hear;
I felt the rain's cool finger-tips
Brushed tenderly across my lips,
Laid gently on my sealed sight,
And all at once the heavy night
Fell from my eyes and I could see, --
A drenched and dripping apple-tree,
A last long line of silver rain,
A sky grown clear and blue again.
And as I looked a quickening gust
Of wind blew up to me and thrust
Into my face a miracle
Of orchard-breath, and with the smell, --
I know not how such things can be! --
I breathed my soul back into me.

Ah! Up then from the ground sprang I
And hailed the earth with such a cry
As is not heard save from a man
Who has been dead, and lives again.
About the trees my arms I wound;

Like one gone mad I hugged the ground;
I raised my quivering arms on high;
I laughed and laughed into the sky,
Till at my throat a strangling sob
Caught fiercely, and a great heart-throb
Sent instant tears into my eyes;
O God, I cried, no dark disguise
Can e'er hereafter hide from me
Thy radiant identity!

Thou canst not move across the grass
But my quick eyes will see Thee pass,
Nor speak, however silently,
But my hushed voice will answer Thee.
I know the path that tells Thy way
Through the cool eve of every day;
God, I can push the grass apart
And lay my finger on Thy heart!

The world stands out on either side
No wider than the heart is wide;
Above the world is stretched the sky, --
No higher than the soul is high.
The heart can push the sea and land
Farther away on either hand;
The soul can split the sky in two,
And let the face of God shine through.
But East and West will pinch the heart
That can not keep them pushed apart;
And he whose soul is flat -- the sky
Will cave in on him by and by.

Further information on Edna St Vincent Millay can be found here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/edna-st-vincent-millay