Story shared

There were so many stories shared about the war from so many different people.  All the stories are unique and sacred.  One night as the skies opened and the heavens poured down heavy rain this came to me.

Listen to the rain pour down on the roof.
Pounding out cleansing to a hot earth.
The beat of tears so strong and so long kept in.
Beating on ground, making patterns on the dry, dusty earth.
Cleansing away a past too hard to take in.
To the hearts of others who listen to stories of pain.
I lost two here and one there,
remembered in the drowning torrent.
From a sky which cracks and splits the dark.
Thundering an angry cry.
Asking, "Why did the people not listen to my cry?"