Monsoon Magic: Rain Of Tears © Poem by Roann Mendriq

Who turned the clouds off in the sky?
Who turned the high sun on to glare? '
The parched earth wails a plaintive cry,
Every gust of breeze, a prayer.

The land is arid, dull with dust,
The trees are bare and start to wilt;
The withered ground cracks to a crust,
Dam the rivers wracked with guilt.

Creatures waste away, decline,
Thirst begins its cruel curse;
Blind eyes raised to the Divine,
Only hope against the hearse.

And Heavens' doors are open wide,
It rains as if the angels cried!