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Coming Through

The rose came through the rain

better than I did.

The Storm fell suddenly,

heavy, wet, and grey.

The rose met the rain with pretty upturned face,

until the burden bowed her head

and she let one of her petals slip,

like a silk scarf

sighing to the ground.

She stood in full knowledge of her vulnerability,

lovely and patient,

absorbing nourishment from the downpour –

Life itself.

More than enduring the rain, she embraced it,

holding on to each cold drop with her petals and leaves

even as the Sun broke away the clouds…

The rose upheld the tears of Storm,

precious medals starring in the Light,

her head still bowed in quiet victory.

I ran in from the rain, bedraggled and cursing,

shutting myself in with my irritation,

shutting myself out from the glory of the rose.

© 2014 Christina Chase – as posted on

Christina Chase View All

I don't call myself a poet — but the beating of my heart is poetry. I don't call myself a theologian — but the light of my mind seeks the Divine. Who I am is a Child of God, a Divine Creation, a person devoted to being fully human, fully alive.

2 thoughts on “Coming Through Leave a comment

    • Thank you, Donna! When I first wrote this poem, many years ago, I was really only thinking about how vulnerable flowers are in the rain and, yet, beautifully they weather storms. Searching for words and images, I could not help but draw upon Christ on the Cross and also His Mother in the Pieta.
      It’s a lot like what you wrote about in I Choose to Embrace My Strokes. Peace and courage to you!


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