Then came soft showers to cleanse the dead terrain—

Parched earth laid bare, bereft of summer’s green;

Gaunt wasted corpses still the field did stain,

A jumbled wreckage strewn across the scene.

A dossal curtain like a hopeful shroud

Hung poised to soon reveal a risen land;

And holy waters, scattered on the crowd,

Called each lost soul to rise and make a stand.

There to behold a living world reborn,

Sweet life upraised from every hidden lair

Restored by sainted drops so lightly worn

Upon that sullen earth, tear-soaked in prayer.

There from dark loam behold a lily white—

God’s promise pure of love’s unending light.