Prayer in the Rain

Headlights sparkle, then glare.
Startled passengers scream.
Trucks zoom past as we stare,
Mesmerized in dark dream.
Boundaries dissolve, turn black.
Maneuver, stay on track,
I peer ahead, intent,
Hopes of safety now rent,
Like Paul off Malta’s coast,
I pray devoid of boast.

I cry out, silent scream,
Envision quite real dream.
Frightening memories appear –
Careening on Wyoming hill,
Icy curves, is death near?

I feign calm, danger’s real.

Cascades fall on our ship,
Viewed through glass on Ton le Sap.
Cambodia’s lake transforms,
Rain streams down, my face warms,
Prayer in all scenes rises,
Faith courage advises.
Lord, rain and thunder shake,
Lightning reflects on lake,
Then the sun shines through clouds.
A rainbow now enshrouds
My fear that paralyzed,
Searing doubt improvised,
Dispelled, now dissipates.
Joy bubbles, hunger sates.

I hear your voice, not shrill,
Intoning, “Peace, be still.”

I chew bread, drink the wine, my salvation divine

(A poem of prayer by Michael Waymon Summers)

“Once safely on shore, we found out that the island was called Malta. The islanders showed us unusual kindness. They built a fire and welcomed us all because it was raining and cold” (Acts 28:1-2, New International Version).