Cleansing

How heroically the rain falls after the fire is spent, And soldier’s tears are swept away, Camouflaged so no one can see. Blood and grime washed off our bodies, Eliminating the awful stench of death that surrounds us. How merrily the rain falls at a time when laughter seems distant, And every one stops their sorrows to see nature happy. Green shoots emerge from charred earth, A promise of shelter and cover from the storm and carefree days, playing on the battleground. How optimistically the rain falls When riverbeds are cracked and our gardens dieing. When winter has given its all, And killed. Killed for lack of water in the dry country. We feel the rain on our shoulders, Washing away our sins and the dust.