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sitting in a space surrounded
by rain, I become rainish
I puddle up with distopia
gather rainish-soaked bitter memories
into my heart as though they’re precious
and necessary
my brain acting as rainish gauge
tracking un-data for the un-stats
for making claims like presidential
candidates

the heart knows Truth, knows Love
and never falters nor complains
the heart rests in comfort
like a baby rests in cradling arms
ignores rainish thoughts
and bittered memories
surrounds me with treasured ones
instead
gently leading me back to center

hearting me back to God


c. 2024 Roberta Compton Rainwater
ride the pain to
the center of your heart
where Wisdom lives
where Loves our Savior
ride the pain
into your soul’s core
where Wisdom grows
and sings the hymn
of your life eternal
ride the pain
to your hymn of Life
and let your heart and soul
float in God’s precious blood
so freely given
Ask and you shall be given
Seek and you shall be found
ride the pain
as Sacrifice for errors
carried by your heart
in humble surrender


c. 2024 Roberta Compton Rainwater
stripping the large leaves from the stalks
starts the process
sorting and carrying green tobacco leaves
to the barn
where bundles are created and tied
then mounted on the hanging sticks
readies them for the cooking fire
farm hands balance on narrow boards
twenty feet up from the floor where
fifty feet up, rafters wait
for the bundles to be hung, carefully placed
to allow warmed air to circulate among them
fires are carefully started at floor level
and cooking begins
for days, the bunched leaves are dried
while a farmhand checks them daily
braving one hundred eighty degree heat
high in the rafters
making sure air flow remains steady over all
and tobacco is cooked

preparing and cooking tobacco
seems much like human courting ritual
gathering
bundling
creating a curing space
feeling heated
allowing feelings to move as they must
over, under, around, and through
until the relationship has cooked


c. 2024 Roberta Compton Rainwater
cloud sandbars resting above scudding
cloud-puffs racing northward
anchor the skypath as
guideposts to their next assignment

layered winds move cloudish air
from there to there
as crows caw and dogs bark
while dry leaf-fall skitters on concrete
to seed the moving air with praise song

the clouds steady march along the skypath
as though intent with purpose
listening to the songwinds
taking no credit themselves
giving it all to God


c. 2024 Roberta Compton Rainwater
cradled in this heart
another heart bound in caverned Love
beats a rhythm on a seashore
so far distant that it left footprints
as guides

fallowed in this heart
another heart encompassed in shallowed love
boats its rower on confused melody
like a splooted animal
decides

to rest

a heart unites the divides
spools slowly slowly
its Love from a wheel
winds thready gossamers together on a distaff
knits the splooted with unsplooted
a generosity unanswered by the blind
and unlooked for by the unblind

how, then, is Love chimed?
how harmonized? how composed?
how, then, is Love sung?
spool it out deep into the Universe
to be unsung
as it is plucked on the Harp of Creation


c. 2024 Roberta Compton Rainwater
don’t give up on me
please
You are my heart
my reason to be
keep me ever in Hand

don’t give up on me
please
You are the Soul of my soul
my reason for life
keep me ever in Hand

don’t give up on me
please
You are the Keeper of my being
I surrendered my will to Thee
keep me ever in Hand

don’t give up on me
please
You are my eternal prayer
I surrendered my ease to Thee
keep me ever in Hand

guide me
please
through this hard and tortuous existence
that I might kneel to Thee in Heaven
where You will
keep me ever in Hand


c. 2024 Roberta Compton Rainwater
when I was fourteen
I still felt foreteen
there but not there
here but not here
there but not here
here but not there

I was opposite my opposite
an opposition of opposite
turning my heart
from right to wrong to left again
absent my mind and
immersed in brain
immersed in heart but
lacking soul
immersed in mind but
absent body
lacking sense and finding no joy
spending myself in neverending treasure hunts
the coinage of foreteen going on
fourteen


c. 2024 Roberta Compton Rainwater
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