The Wrath of the Rain

Ragged and rough in those sepia pages
Tear-streaked and fearful, alone
They were caught in the casual flash of the camera
A number, a name, do you know where they’ve gone?
They came with the faces of innocents
And they left with the bodies of men
They were out on the run
They were fleeing the wrath of the rain
Deadbeat with drifting, they scrambled ashore
And they ran from the spell of the sea
And they looked to tire past and drank to the future
And knew in their hearts it was never to be
Now some of them came from the stony lands
And some from the paths of the plain;
But every man was fleeing the wrath of the rain
Where have they gone to, those faded faces
Those fierce mustachioed men?
The women and boys and their tattered belongings
What has become of the loss and the pain?
I see them today on the streets of the city
We nod to each other again;
And I stand in their doorways to shelter
Awhile from the rain