First Rain

Some say, when creation came, the days were dry,

As creatures from the sea first crawled to land.

The sun beat down and stung each squinting eye,

While vapor rose from trails of wetted sand.

Many were not yet ready to there abide,

Taken by dehydration, life threads waning.

So the sky cried for those who died,

Not knowing its tears would save the ones remaining.

 

This poem is sort of a made-up myth about how rain first came to be. Like most myths, I tried to have it speak to some universal truth or lesson. In this case, the idea is that hope can come out of failure and sadness, and what we learn can help us move forward.