there she stood, solid as rock in a hurricane...
The rain was falling
down in torrents,
black water from
a blood-black sky,
yet there i stood
under that keening night,
wearing the wet as a shawl.
A chill seeped in under my skin
but I held my ground,
face upturned and no escape,
as if the eyes of God
were leveled straight at me,
challenging me
to turn and walk inside.
Turn your back, they said,
on the greatest gift of all,
but i was
shackled to the spot…
Roots could have grown
right around my boots
while puddles collected around me,
and I just took it all in…
saffronsound 
great poem i love flowing words very beautifully written nice one.
“wearing the wet as a shawl” great line. Excellent poem.
Both beautiful and powerful!