Rain (Zimbabwe)

A gentle rain is so gentle it lulls a baby to sleep  It's puttering sound on the roof soothes and calms down the raging fires of an unsettled mind;  Fills the yearnings of an unloved heart  It is steady, it is consistent it is like that person who you can trust  A gentle rain is so gentle it flows down the cold glass of the window in a caress Making art, it draws watery pictures which hastily run down before you decipher what they could be, what they could mean

Rain is angry too, sometimes  It's first raindrop will hit you like a slap from a jilted lover; shocking and sudden Angry rain is so angry it doesn't fall, it bursts Like the rapture of a mother's  uterus whose baby dies because it was left unattended until too late Angry rain pours in a torrent, as if punishing the earth for unknown transgressions  It steals and destroys like Lucifer Like the senseless shooting of mankind on the streets of Harare  Fear is injected into the very brave with words which shake and unnerve like a thunderstorm. But unlike a rambling loud  thunderbolt their angry rain never carries empty threats  Theirs splits the skies with blistering  lightning Echoing their blistering threats to crush murmuring voices Leaving a trail of casualties smelling a mingled strange smell of rain and blood 

And when the angry rain becomes a spent force  We await the healing light drizzle  That one that soaks into the soul of the soil  Wetting it's dry throat It's the kind that lovers never feel yet clothes Cling to their warm moist skins because of it A healing kind of rain is forgiving, it cleanses And washes away past hurts  Unlike the rain sent to  'wash away chaff', Healing rain is sent by the  Creator of the People,  The Owner of the Land, The One sitting on the Throne of the Heavens 

But somehow the healing kind of rain never comes