The thundering rain roiled violently in the warm November night
striking the man with sheets of his plight
He, on his knees on the side of the road,
had arms raised like and above his face
a thousand cries towards mercy
In supplication he wailed at the haunt of cars
A woman rushed to his side.
She didn’t touch him, but she united her voice with his prayers
He staggered to his feet as wings offered him passage
His breath of prayer accounted for, he was warmly embraced
He sobbed his shame into his cupped hands
while apologizing for his humanity
The chariot released him to the cross of spirits
easing his ailing heart.
He is loved.