When a hard rain falls on the faces of the innocent, angels bend their wings into umbrellas to shelter, each trembling soul.
Thunderous voices of abuse, storms of doubt, and winds of despair, may assail them, but the soul can persevere.
Much like when a hard rain, deluges fragile flowers, their delicate petals close, to protect their center, until the worst is over.
We who have
faced the cruel bite of tears running in rivulets upon our bruised cheeks, must strive to find shelter for those who bring purity to the world and nourish them in the calm that follows the damage when chaos reigns.