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The Rain People

Myriah Krista Walker


The fullness of My Heart fills the canyon as I sit upon a perch overlooking the river. The happy songs of birds newly nesting along the river travel upon a gentle breeze. Its spring, although snows still dot the boughs of sage and stone along the landscape.

The river is brown-green today. Melting snows softly erode this ever-changing Earth along the river, piling up, rearranging, and spontaneously re-creating itself as it will.

The river sings softly. Dried grasses begin to rustle in two-part harmony. A raindrop falls. Ah, spring! When clouds change colors from grays to blues, snows are transformed by the heat of the Earth, and the Rain People come.

It was another spring, somewhere in time, that I first saw the Rain People. The memory of their Presence fills Me now as I remember.

~*~*~*~

[April 28, 1999]

A wall of rain moves south to north through the river valley. Particles of the droplets are visible as waves of rain ripple by the cabin. The rippling waves are as tall as the surrounding canyon walls here on the Colorado River. The filtered sunlight creates shadows, and My
I-Mag-I-Nation then sees this watery wall as many tall Beings walking through the river valley very fast.

Each has upraised arms and palms together as if They are in a state of walking prayer. I have never seen the Rain People before. My tears fell like rain as I beheld Them.

They are the People Imagining healing upon the Earth. They are the I-Mages of Souls Who have passed through the veils of consciousness, and/or physical death. They are echoes of times I have cried and healed. They are Sisters and Brothers of healing. They are the Mirrors of Those Who Pray.

Swiftly They drench everything in Their wake, calling the Earth and Her children alive with sudden coldness and wrenching new perspective into every molecule of Isness as they shiver helplessly in the storm. Washed clean.

My awareness returns to the computer, and I realize I had really become One with the Rain People, walking among Them. A tiny blue lightning bolt makes a mark upon the screen as I begin typing again. The rain shifts, becomes more downward, and the I-Mages of Rain People vanish. But for a moment, They were really there, passing by the cabin in prayer. I send a pulse of Love to Them as They journey, ever on.