Latter Rain

Latter

RAIN

Latter

RAIN CURATED POETRY & PROSE BY: PAMELA CONE

THANK YOU Poetry is lyrics of the soul manifesting seemingly out of thin air. This art is captured in a moment. Vapor words appear dancing around seeking a route to escape. Finding exodus through the pen. The paper soaks in the words attempting to absorb their rich meaning. As you read them allow them to seep into your heart and nourish your spirit.

Meditate on these songs that will continue after you read them to echo in your mind.

With each stanza your love will crescendo. Inspired words are powerful and will inscribe the soul. They are life to those who dare to utter. Poetry was once bound in volumes ghostly seeking refuge. They have now been loosed from their binds and permitted to roam. House them now in your heart!

I hope you will enjoy reading my work and that it will touch you in some way.

Sincerely, Pamela

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PAMELA CONE MINISTER, WIFE, MOTHER, MIMI, AUTHOR & ENTREPRENEUR

Pamela Cone wholeheartedly believes being called to the ministry is the reason why she was born. She is extremely humbled by this God given assignment to "feed HIS sheep".

The journal's curator is married to Elder Steven Cone, who she works alongside as his Assistant Pastor at Dominion, CLGI located in Dayton, Ohio. She is the mother of 3 beautiful children and the Mimi to 2 (for now) adorable grandchildren.

The couple have been in ministry for over 25 years. She is the Founder and CEO of Curated Spaces, LLC and is actively engaged in her community and women's ministry.

Pamela has an undergraduate degree in Communication Studies with a minor in African American Studies, and an associates' degree in Interior Design.

UNBURIED TALENTS I write so when I see Him and He ask, "what did you do with your talents."

My response won't be, "I buried them."

IN DEDICATION TO: To my mother, Dora Reed For all your love, for all your labor, for all your prayers!

Until & even after I learned how to pray for the rain.

I love you!

To my husband, Steven Thank you for your patience!

I love you!

To my beautiful children LaJoya, Stephen and Brittney I'm so grateful to be your mother!

I love you!

IN HONOR OF MY FATHER WILLIAM OTIS REED

"Baby one day you're going to have your own."

TO EVERY BELIEVER CONTINUE TO TRUST IN GOD

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Trouble Latter Rain Looking for Grace Oh God! Lead Me to the Rock The Wind God's Mercy God's Kindness A Cloudy Dawn Night Light Glorious Wonder

TABLE OF CONTENTS

A Robe for Pam My Father's Last Prayer Manna At the Gate Selah Standing in the Need Fingertips Peace Covered Blood Stains Move

TROUBLE

don't last always JOY COMES IN THE MORNING

LATTER RAIN Heaven seems closed.

It's done that before.

The ground crackles until pleas can be heard from every break.

There isn't time to be concerned with the dust underneath the feet, the ill taste on the tongue or the creases around the eyes.

There is something rumbling behind the clouds.

It can be felt on the floor of the belly and on back of the knees.

The freshness alarms the nose the way a trumpet preludes a new day.

This is what you look for when the night season seems long.

When the answer doesn't come in the wind, when you stand at the gate waiting to hear it thunder waiting to feel the coolness of the latter rain.

Meet Me Oh God, meet me Meet me in this place.

The place where your spirit dwells.

Filled with the love they've never known.

A love surpassing man's own.

I know not a place that your spirit won't dwell.

Where thy words causes my heart to swell.

I can taste your goodness.

I know you're not far from me.

I've been high and I've been low.

I've been full of joy.

I've been full of sorrow.

Teach me to trust only thee.

Cause me to stand like Moses.

Great things allow me to see.

Each day is a new mercy.

I don't worry about tomorrow.

Tomorrow may not come for me.

Let me stand and not flee.

Flee from thy presence.

When you speak to me.

Speak to my heart.

I'll take this moment to feel your presence.

Your presence in the morning dew.

The sun is bright and the birds sing.

Concerning him that hanged from the tree.

Now a tree of righteousness for all to seek.

The place in man that longs to be filled.

Not of times past.

Shine for your majesty.

Sing of your goodness.

Praise to your glory Meet me Oh Lord, in this place.

While I'm waiting, yielding and still.

Looking FOR GRACE

When grace stands underneath the tree and mercy falls like the morning dew you know you're where you should be.

Standing in the light of the morning, when darkness consumes every place you've stepped before, you suddenly realize the air shouldn't be taken for granted.

While everything else seems as stable as water, there is an assurance within the soul. The intellect and the intangible reasoning wrestle from time to time.

There's no evidence, but it is present, just like the wind

Oh God!

Oh God! Who is a God like You? Knelling down before You. You saw me enter into Your courts.

You heard me call Your name.

Oh God! Who is a God like You? You remember my frame.

You heal my soul's diseases.

Oh God! Who is a God like You? My lips shall speak Your praise.

Even when my heart is stiff and my hands low.

Oh God! Who is a God like You? The day is done.

All has fallen into place.

Grateful for Your guiding hand.

Oh God! Who is a God like You? No, there is not a one, like You.

Lead me to the Rock Higher Than I My soul seems empty with all the goodness has seeped out as if it was never there. There's only one place I know to go to cause this to cease.

There's a place I found where mercy dwells and forgiveness reigns. I once believed only judgement lived there, but I've discovered the sweetness of grace.

My soul cries out not in words. I can't seem to stop the tears. The other tries to tell me I've come too many times and there's no remedy for a wretch like me. I push past him, remembering the safety of times past. I stand outside the gate making my plea. I feel broken.

Everywhere else I must stand as if I'm whole.

Here I'm free to stand tattered and worn.

Hear my cry, O God; attend unto my prayer.

From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I. Psalms 61 : 1 - 2

The Wind brought rain Falling down on me Filled my empty places The Wind brought words Speaking to me Assured my staggering soul The Wind brought joy Over shadowing me Lifted my head bowed in shame

GOD'S MERCY

Have Mercy upon me, O God, according to thy loving-kindness; according to the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquities and cleanse me from my sins...

Psalms 51: 1 - 2 Lord I thank you for not rewarding me according to my iniquities and according to my sins. I stood before you guilty and you gave me mercy. Your word says "the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life".

I was guilty and instead of death you gave me life eternal; you filled me with your precious Holy Spirit. God thank you for blotting out my transgressions for casting them as far as the east is from the west and remembering them no more.

When I come before you, they are not held against me.

Lord I thank you. And you purged my conscious from dead works that I might serve you. When I was guilty you did not cast me away from your presence nor did you take away your spirit; but you upheld me with your free spirit.

I thank you for your loving kindness, for your tender mercy for your grace, for being long-suffering. Lord you are good and your mercy is plenteous. I love you for your love, your kindness, for your graciousness and for your tender mercy.

God's Kindness Lord I thank you for your love. As I knell down to pray this morning I feel your presence. I'm amazed and humbled to have this time and space.

I'm overwhelmed that You are mindful of me.

I thank You for Your tender mercy, for Your kindness.

I'm so thankful I have experienced Your love.

I stand in Your mercy.

I'm in awe of Your presence as I knell this morning. It amazes me how You're right here. I'm so grateful for this sweet space.

God I ask You to wash me make me clean.

Reveal to me what hinders me. I have been afraid to be in this space, afraid to lie naked in the light.

I know once the light shines there's no hiding.

I thank You for washing me.

I pray wash me, wash me, wash me and make me clean. I imagine myself at a river my feet wading in the water. I reach down in the pool and scoop up the clear clean water. I bathe in the river of forgiveness. I wash away every guilty stain that I cannot speak out loud.

There's no judgement in this place only peace and forgiveness. There's no shame and I surrender my darkest secrets. I must tell them or else they will haunt me daily reminding me making me a prisoner holding me hostage and giving them power over me. They would become a sickness eating away at my soul staring me in the face mocking me when I praise.

Wash me, wash me, wash me--make me clean.

Until I feel clean in my soul.

There's a stirring underfoot, a roaring like thunder.

A mind to turn the corner to meet the open door.

Distance can't dim the brightness of the light.

There's a praise rising, overflowing in the soul.

Words to encourage as they leave the tongue.

By standers can't stop the stride of the rhythm.

There's a sweetness in the air, denying the bitter sting.

An aroma sent on the the wind troubling the water.

Weariness can't resist the rest of the promise.

There's a stillness in the air of a cloudy dawn.

Clouds to hide the terrors of the night.

Starry blackness soon forgotten with the sun.

A CLOUDY DAWN

The evening clouds played nest to a moon almost in full bloom.

Formally dressed, the night unfolded itself and emerged at the feet of the stars.

GLORIOUS WONDER

Night Light Faith lies in my soul.

Strength seals the break.

In the night season comes light.

Shining within my soul.

A Robe for Pam Voices like soulful angels Filled the sanctuary The clapping of hands, patting of feet Aroma of hymnals and perfume The majestic organ, grandness of the piano The melodious sound coming From the fat black lady singing Finely dressed women wearing hats, handkerchiefs Me, no older than eight Too small to seem to matter Possessed even obsessed with Being apart of these people

Up there is where I needed to be Marching down the aisle—all eyes on me Could I sing?—who knew Never had tried before What must I do?

You have to be baptized they said Well, sat on the mourners bench All week long!

Waiting to feel remorse for being a sinner Pool down underneath a trapped door Down in the water I went Cold—whew, let me tell you Chilled to the bone My soul rejoicing Soon I would be singing!

Measured just for me Made just for me Beautiful royal blue, gold sash The angels weren’t as proud Of their divine garments I loved it, I loved being between those walls Somewhere to belong I opened my mouth Wide like a bird Sung as loud as My little lungs would allow This must be What it is going to be When I get a robe Made just for me To sing in that heavenly choir

My Father’s Last Prayer Lord have mercy on my soul Nigh unto me even unto my own mouth Lord I stretch my hand to thee no other help I know If thou withdraw thyself from me whether shall I go I have called on thee in good times and in sorrow I have one more river to cross Lord take me by the hand and lead me on I’m tired, I’m weak, I’m worn I see you standing with your arms outstretched I’ll rest in your bosom Wash my weary feet in the river Jordan

Manna The sun seems hotter The days shorter The night season longer But joy comes on the morning dew Manna

At the Gate The seeds have long since been carried away in the breeze passing along a message which can only be interpreted by those waiting for instructions. They look under rocks or they turn to bushes hunting down words for guidance or sometimes a place to hide. The rocks cleft will provide a refuge like a strong pavilion. A place to bandage their wounds or to fly away to rest.

The message scattered abroad searching for the right ground. The composition scripted in code, only the seer can interpret the meaning or someone possessing the words of knowledge to speak words of faith. There first must be an offering a prelude to go before the message. The heavens will loose it's divine will once the seeker has offered the right sacrifice. It's amazing how many come this far and refuse to bow or ask for mercy.

The seer interprets the vision and lays their hand on the seekers head. The past and future all revealed the load of guilt relieved and hope somehow passes through the palm of the hand.

All in the sanctuary are pleased they praise in the tabernacle. They find peace at the gate and strength at the door. Grace standing on one side and mercy holding down the other, they turn in wonder, they leap with joy.

MERCY ON MY SOUL, MERCIFUL GOD. GOD OF TODAY, GOD OF FOREVERMORE.

MERCY ON MY SOUL,

WHERE I WALK,

GOD OF ISRAEL.

MERCY ON MY SOUL, MERCIFUL GOD. GOD OF TOMORROW, GOD OF FOREVERMORE. WHERE I REST,

WHERE I STAND,

THE SHIFTING GROUND.

THE SHIFTING GROUND.

MERCIFUL GOD. GOD OF ABRAHAM,

THE SHIFTING GROUND.

COVERED The night slipped away like it had something to go hide.

Only time yet to come will uncover this moon's secrets.

When it's safe to utter what happened under it's watch.

Somehow it has remained hidden as if it was untrue.

The earth covers again allowing the fallen to ask for redemption.

In the meantime it covers, under the sun it still hides.

As if it has unfolded and made a place within. It will remain swept away like the stars, ushered away at dawn.

It has asked for it's prints to be erased. Only to be remembered by those who wake up owning the shame.

STANDING IN NEED The door opened wide and I entered in.

Not sure when this time would come again.

Hope and joy covered the floor, redemption draped the walls of this place where I've stood before.

My feet felt light as I danced before the king.

No timbrel in my hand only rejoicing sounds in did bring.

Praise, my personal offering.

Coming from knowing of His grace and mercy from suffering.

The sweetness of forgiveness and the comfort of this love is above any other.

I entered alone and left my offering on the floor where I stood in the need of prayer once before.

fingertips When I lay me down let me not forget you.

When I rise let words of gratitude lay on my tongue.

In the heat of the day I feel you like a breeze.

And in the nights air like a fire.

I feel for you with the tips of my hands.

I stretch them out to you.

When the morning comes stand near.

When I walk hold me with the tip of your finger.

Peace doesn't come in a bottle it has to be something you slide into like a pair of shoes. With every step you become more confident. At first, the ground seems as if you're standing on ice.

The taste of peace seems as if it belongs to someone else.

You're not sure who exactly, maybe the people who testify about it. You on the other hand search for it. After you learned how to walk across the river you look for it under every stone.

Peace takes the sting out of your tears and makes you smile at the evil doer. You wait to see when they are coming down stream. You won't step into the troubled waters. There are others standing in line. Eventually you join in as they pass by chanting words and carrying the sign of peace.

Without strength the blood still stains the

tree Stumbling in darkness the light still brightens

Zion In sinking sand the stone still hewed out the mountain MY Head bowed in shame grace and mercy still stand

near

Move The moving ground shouldn't trouble at night.

Neither should the necks of those betting against you.

They won't be heard.

Their rags will be the dirt of that same ground.

Find rest in knowing The words of the heavens reach across the earth.

In every language issuing knowledge.

To tremble at the voice is clean.

Cleansing even the secret faults.

The request make their way into the room.

The banners wave before as petitions Even in the courts, the words help., strength....

Mingle among the common pleas for grace....

Even for the length of days......