It was like waiting for the rain to come
Waiting for the drops to strike the parched dust and feed the earth
Hoping into blue skies and cotton clouds
That something would form
Would come
Given by grace or God
And it was that God awful wait
Not knowing from day to day
If she would live or die
It was as bad as the wait at a death bed
Waiting into the dawn for the dying gasps
And then one day it came
The skies opened
She told him that she wanted to decorate for Christmas
No tree or gifts and not even the inside of the house
But he knew
As soon as she said it
The wait was over
The rain had come
The water would run in the fields
She would live
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem