As The Dew Of Hermon Poem by Brown mbadiwe

As the dew of Hermon
falls without a sound,
it kisses the weary hills
and cools the ache of night.

It comes not with thunder,
nor the shout of rain,
but with gentle mercy
that restores the dry heart.

Where feet have wandered long
on dust and doubt,
the dew gathers softly,
teaching the earth to trust again.

In its silence, wounds close,
seeds remember their names,
and morning learns
how to rise with hope.

So let my soul receive
this quiet descent—
as the dew of Hermon,
a blessing that stays.