What the Storm Is For

The storm, when it came,
tore the sky to tatters. The rain
lashed the ground,
the sinful ground,
scourged the ground, and I
couldn’t tell if the lash was spite
or redemption. The furrows left
were scars, and nothing
that a tear could wash away.

What can we do in the teeth
of such spite? Did we deserve this?
What have we done? You? Me? The earth?
No amount of faith
can shelter us from the thunder’s curse.
All that we can tell ourselves is
it will pass,
it will pass,
and the earth’s sins
at least, will be diluted.

It is the sun that shows us what the storm is for.