The text is darker in this weather,
more emphatic, as though
while he wrote,
outside prison walls Saint Paul
saw the fall
of some Ephesian rain-drops and thought:
If my plea should fall on hard soil…
Did he see the runaway slave
in the wet, uncertain,
his master’s door, with letter
on solid Colossian stones, and fear
a silent and stony reply?
Raindrops soften soil. Outside is damp,
garden drenched. Too much heart
is a flood
when heart hears abject pleading.
today with softening truth, and yet
for all my rain I still am clay.