The Final Rain
by Darrell Petska

For the rain of perpetuity
to anoint this hoary head,
I am still waiting—

that gentle rain which comes,
once storms cease their rage,
to end all worry, unmask blindness,
bare the heart of cosmic stirrings.
Amid that final brush of dew,
the last grain of stubborn self
can sprout, conjoin with earth,
raise in sunlight supple branches
to mingle with the stars.

On this dry land, I am still waiting
for the everlasting rain of awe
to play upon my brow
music of endless presence
that fires love’s spark,
lifts shadows, whispers hope.

All is miracle.
Each fertile minute.
Time’s enfolding loam.
Forever’s gracious edge
as the final rain draws near.

PAINTING: Rain (Study) by Agnes Martin (1960).

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Myths define our humanity: myths about living, dying, surviving on Earth or in an afterlife. Various cultures and religions mythicize death. In this poem I mythicize life and death as a unitary aspect of the ever-present, transformative force of the universe. Myths are not cast in stone: they serve us, until they no longer do. They are also ultimately personal, not being “true” except as they seem true for each individual.

Petska copy

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Darrell Petska publishes fiction, poetry and nonfiction. View his work in Buddhist Poetry Review, Nixes Mate Review, Right Hand Pointing, Boston Literary Magazine, Verse-Virtual, Loch Raven Review, Soul-Lit, and elsewhere. Darrell has tallied 30 years as an editor at the University of Wisconsin–Madison, 41 years as father (eight years a grandfather), and longer still as husband. Find links to more of his work at conservancies.wordpress.com.