IMMANUEL

The storms will come.
Bringing the cold, cold driving rain.
Numbing the heart and soul.
There's nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.
No shelter for kilometers around.
There is always a breaking point where we
    can take no more.
Tears begin to mix with the rain.
Down on your knees, head hung low.
The rain running down off your head.
The tears run down your face.
Then disappear.
Hopeless in despair.
Faith that is frozen.
But you rise to standing.
Your hair is matted to your head and face.
You raise your head to see the heavens
    above.
You raise your arms to what you cannot
    see.
You cry out.
And hope and faith return to you.
Despair drains away with the rain down
    the sewers.
The sun breaks through.
Wrapping warmth around your shivering body.
Now you are alive.
No more tears.
You smile.
But there is another storm looming on
    the horizon.
The dark clouds are on the move.
Coming ever closer.
Now you have shelter.
Your Brother covers over you.
As your Father holds back the storm.
You are safe, you are warm, you are alive.
Immanuel.

SCOTT DAVID BUCKLEY