Maybe God cries
big tears of sadness
when grey skies rain,
grieving over evil in
the world muddied by
our prideful rebellion.
His beloved children
deceived by the
enemy in snakeskin,
swiftly ushering in
disease and death
spoiling paradise,
stealing happiness.
God cries with us
in our suffering,
pain, regret, loss.
Our Father’s tears
mingle with our own
to bring release
and comfort for our
souls’ grey sorrows.
Yet weather’s tears
cannot clean
the dark stains
of hands and hearts
steeped in sin.
Only the pure blood
of His Son, our brother,
can wash all guilt away
in flood of grace.
a poem in my pocket 
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