A Thousand

Life is a thousand needles falling,
wounding flesh.
Raining from heaven as
fiery darts,
they rend hope and shred faith.

Through days, they fall at times
hard or soft.
Never ending, they arrow to earth
in whispers,
becoming a soft pine bed of wisdom.

When it rains on a July day

When it rains on a July day,
they huddle their shoulders,
hide their children and their faces.

Focused on where they go,
they avoid where they are.

When it rains on a July day,
the air is hot and muggy,
crowding close as a subway stranger.

Filling their throats and lungs,
it pushes them to shelter.

When it rains on a July day,
I lift my eyes to the grey skies,
I take deep breaths of clean air.

The birds and I know that
when it rains on a July day,
it rains for me.