Rain On My Wounds

Over land and sea we are scattered

Children in bondage to a quest

Spread around this world, battered

Warriors who search to be the best

Talking of mastery of their lands

With borders drawn, their swords aflame

A war is waged, skin color rages

Fields of dead lie in loving god's name

Touch me, sky, rain on my wounds

We'll be marching homeward soon

Touch me, wind, and blow me home

I'll never fight again

I wish that god had said a name

That everyone could use to call

The sun to shine upon their field

A name to cause the rain to fall

If he could speak his mind to us

Our swords would be ever sheathed

And children would play on the battlefield

And wives would never grieve

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Doris J. Rhodes's picture

Matt, all I can say is wow! I love this poem. I've read a few of your works but this one is by far the best. I will read more.
If the writer can touch my soul I must tell them so. Matt, you touch my soul. Keep up the writng. It's God's gift to you.