clarakatalin

What comfort I receive
When gentle raindrops fall
Upon my roof — and I
Am dry beneath it all.

What comfort I now feel
When warm inside my bed,
Like mom who wrapped me in her arms,
And always kept me fed.

What grief I sense for those
Who under freeways sleep
Who struggle every day to find
Security to keep.

My heart is broken now
For families torn apart.
For strife and anger uncontained,
The wounds of broken hearts.

O, gentle raindrops, tell
Those suffering now from want,
That there’s a God Who loves them still;
He loves your broken heart.