Poetica: "The Grieving Rain" by Rebecca Young
Welcome to Poetica, the monthly poetry column of Shadowlands Dispatch. This month, we are excited to feature “The Grieving Rain” by Rebecca Young, an undergraduate student at Georgia College and State University! Following her poem, Rebecca shares her own reflections about what inspired her. Enjoy!
The Grieving Rain
By Rebecca Young
Two birds sway in the moon’s reflection, they glide
through the water of the dark abyss. A bliss of uncertainty
guides their feathers through the chilled night breeze.
Though they are together, they cannot look.
Afraid to catch the other’s eye,
they crane their necks up to the sky. Waiting
for an answer, for a sign. The night goes by,
and the two just glide, together.
Tired of waiting, he lowers his head
Her radiant feathers mysterious in the
Night’s wake. Yet she is Afraid.
Afraid to glance his way
Afraid he will see what she cannot erase
The scars in her eyes ripple faster than
the lengthened lines of lampposts nearby,
she keeps her eyes up to the sky, but
feels him watching.
His gaze softer than the rest. He wants
to see her, wants to know, but he will
fly away from what she cannot show.
Game for the hunters of her past
They steal her feathers for their masks
They mock her stride
They take her pride
They chase her from her lovely nest
A soul rejected by the rest
unworthy
Soon a croon diverts his attention. A
swan’s white feathers meet his eye, lashes flutter,
Releasing them both into the sky.
One downstroke of the swan’s
Certainty restores them to the night.
Alone.
Their gust spins her under the crisp surface
She shivers.
Consumed by the mirror
flipped beneath the surface of uncertainty
Pain invades her lungs, she longs for air
The taunt of emergence fills her ears
soaked in the dark water’s embrace
Their laughter pierces her silence
Their wings dance with the midnight trees
her stiffened neck unable to retreat
They dance and laugh with security
no heartbreak of missed
Opportunity
They dance until they become the light
of the stars that illuminate the night.
Their reflection just out of reach
as it ripples with
Every weep.
Then the moon disappears with the stars,
dark clouds blend with the night
First one drop
then another
Gentle and soft
warm and bright
Each drop
falls into her eyes, healing the scars that
tear inside
The sky softens her
Neck as they grieve together.
Sorrowful raindrops fall with her tears
Rippling through her uncertain fears.
The warmth of the rain brings comfort
to her welling pain
a welling of the warming tears
that take the cold out of her fears.
Her gentle glide restored in the nighttime mourning,
warming and rippling in the reflection
now a mirror of her own.
“Now, we have this treasure in clay jars, so that this extraordinary power may be from God and not from us. We are afflicted in every way but not crushed; we are perplexed but not in despair; we are persecuted but not abandoned; we are struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry the death of Jesus in our body, so that the life of Jesus may also be displayed in our body.”
2 Corinthians 4:7–10
Reflection
Grief is an intricate aspect of the human experience. It helps us face and mourn the reality of loss. Grief helps us grow through our suffering, but we must allow it to pass over us fully. Great beauty comes from great affliction, and Paul dives into the topic of affliction often in his letters of the New Testament. Much of Paul’s life revolved around suffering. He persecuted the very people he later came to know as his beloved. Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 4:7–10 speak closely to grief and suffering. He describes the human body as a clay jar filled with the Lord’s endurance. Clay jars are easily broken, but the treasure inside blesses the body with eternal life.
I wrote “The Grieving Rain” during a difficult season of my life. Poetry is often thought of as a vessel for consciousness, and the body of a poem is our way of creating in the image of God. It is a way to worship Him. The moment of inspiration for this poem came at a campus ministry retreat as I sat beside a lake in the late hours of the night. I retreated to the lake because the laughter in the gym did not match my spirit. As I walked to the lake, the moon’s bright reflection illuminated enough of my path to guide me to its shore. I sat on a nearby bench, and I wept.
I wept because I was ashamed.
I wept because I was devastated.
I wept because I was alone.
I watched as two birds romantically swam across the moon's reflection, and it angered me to see such a lovely scene. Their quiet stride called out my uneasiness. Everything and everyone around me could move forward, yet I was anchored to my past.
I lost my beloved grandmother in a morbid battle with cancer during my senior year of high school. She was a woman who loved the Lord with all of her heart. She served Him well, but she was ripped from my family by illness and suffering.
Everyone around me moved as if nothing was wrong, and no one knew what my family was facing. I navigated through normal conversations with a forced smile and counterfeit laugh. But the memories of waking with my mother to the bitter cries of my grandmother replayed in my head. The pain in her eyes etched across my own, and doubt began to spread like an illness through my spirit. I could not understand how such a “loving” Father could allow His faithful daughter to suffer so much. I was terrified, and instead of asking Him this question, I let it fester for nearly two years.
The retreat fell a week before the two-year anniversary of her death, and I was still angry. I was lost, and my wound never healed. I wrapped my doubt in a hardened shell and moved forward through the next steps of life. I never stopped feeling the pain, though, and the lovely scene on the lake’s shore brought about my moment of surrender.
I kneeled by the lake and I wept.
I wept over my wound—the wound of loss and doubt. I did not want to pray. I was angry and devastated. However, that very night I yielded the fragments of my broken heart to Him. I told Him I was angry and hurt, and I released my anguish at His feet. Shortly after I began to weep, I felt raindrops on my arms and head. The sky was clear and bright moments before, but when I gazed at the sky again, clouds covered the once-bright stars. Rain began to flow. In this moment of surrender, the Lord showed me that I was not alone.
The rain from the clouds felt like the tears of my Heavenly Father grieving by my side. He grieved with me for as long as I needed, and His presence filled my broken clay jar. He graciously took the shards, softened the clay, and began to shape me with His gentle guidance.
He restored my soul.
I finally understood that my view of this life is limited. I cannot understand why horrible trials like the loss of my grandmother take place, but I do understand that the Lord’s character is pure and good. He met my broken heart where it was and softened the calluses.
The posture of the main bird in the poem represents my heart posture: stiffened. I was unable to see farther than my suffering, and, in turn, I missed the simple joys of everyday life. The rain softened my neck, fluffed my feathers, and restored my joyful walk with the Lord.
He strengthened my “glide” through His presence in my affliction. Now, I cannot help but boast in the Lord's heart. His character is true, His spirit is pure, and His love is genuine. He demonstrated this love when I came to Him in the darkness, and He met me there with light.
This life is not void of suffering; 2 Corinthians 4:10 tells us that we will carry the death and suffering of Jesus in our bodies. That very suffering, however, paves the way for Jesus’s life to overflow within us. Suffering and affliction make us more like Him, and, as image bearers of the beautiful Lamb, it is an honor to hold His dwelling within our clay jars.
—Rebecca Young is a student at Georgia College and State University, where she pursuing a Bachelor of Arts in English. She serves on the leadership team for the Baptist Collegiate Ministry, where she oversees women’s ministry. She loves to write, and her hope is to one day share her love of the written word by teaching future generations.
This is so incredibly beautiful WOW!!!