Umbrellas protecting us as rain pours from torn storm
clouds, yet what are they protecting us from?
It is only water after all, as we think and tend to
matters of life, trying to do what we are taught, and
believing otherwise.
Wanting instead, to be getting wet, soaked in fact, by
rain water pouring down upon us, rain actually making
our hair soft and shiny, unlike when taking a shower.
Feeling cleansed and pure from heaven, a special grace
sent from God, Himself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem