Standing in the rain

The year has fallen, darkened,
its spoils surrendered
to the fading pulse of the sun.

A brief harvest of gold coins,
bleeding, corroding, falling spent to earth,
their once brilliant argument lost,
their nothingness exposed by chill, relentless rain.

Days of rain, October’s parting word.
A year of trial and loss, storm and wreckage, and survival,
a year of awakening, of standing up in the rain,
deciding what matters, what to save, what to abandon.

A year to remember why the sun rises
and hurries to begin again with undiscouraged purpose.
A year like a chisel in the hand of God,
like a finger probing a wound that no longer bleeds.

Purpose from chaos,
passage through darkness,
a return home,
the door swung open wide,
and unaccountable joy.

Joy

"Let those who do not know they are sons of God be sad!"

Saint Josemaría Escrivá