The dust kicks up ever so slightly as the first drop impacts.
The dryness of the earth greedily sucks up the moisture.
Taunts cascade from a frenzied mob-
Loved ones cry uncontrollably.
Another drop – same as the first-
Swallowed by a desperate land.
Sobs turn to wailing.
More steady, more quickly the drops.
An anguished Father turns away.
Quenched thirst, a puddle forms-
The edge pulled by years of drought.
Driving deep, a fountain opens with the thrust of steel.
No longer drops-
A steady, small flow.
Clouds form, lightning – Almighty displeasure, Divine pain.
Off the hill a small stream makes its way-
Renewing, overcoming the desert.
Extinguished heart – a King reigns.
A river now – enough for all.
In death they see – in life they questioned.
Time has changed the hill since then – the crowd is silent
The river stays in channel.
I’m at that river now, centuries later-
Looking in, the reflection is clear,
Not the one my mirror gives to me each day.
Exposing the soul, nothing is hid.
The choice is now mine,
Acknowledge exposure, or hide with the crowd.
Up on the hill, I see how it must have been-
I see the pain, the anguish – the awful burden of death.
Closer I walk – his eyes turn to me,
“For you,” He says – “All this.”
Weeping now, no longer does the thought of hiding nag me.
Into the river, my hidden fears washed out.
Peace, words can’t describe.
It’s your choice now-
The river hasn’t moved,,
From the hill it flows- down through time,
Through impossible barriers,
Through the hearts of men and women,
Not just for me, but also you – “All this.”