RAIN AS A MESSENGER
By Michael Agbah
She comes in silence, soft and slow,
With arms of silver, gifts to bestow.
She touches each stone, each wandering lane,
A mother of comfort, a balm for pain.
Her voice is a hush on the rooftop wide,
A lullaby whispered by nature’s side:
“I am here, I’ve not forgotten you,
My song is eternal, my love is true.”
She weeps, and the earth drinks deep her sorrow,
Greens awakens, new life to borrow.
Her tears fall heavy, like rivers run,
Her hands clap thunder, her warning tone.
And when she passes, her scent remains,
Fresh as spring after gentle rains.
The world is washed, renewed, set free,
held in the arms of her purity.
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