Voices from Mt. Olive Cemetery

Jacob Luetweiler

1865-1948

From Highland Illinois I travelled,

Travelled with wife, children and the family bible,

Came with stout brethren and brothers in the faith.

And my far-flung epitaph is this:

My friends, I have seen the rain!

I have held the rain in my cupped calloused hands,

Heard the rain as it descended like a demon!

Assaulting the dry land without mercy,

Annihilating the barren and dead land,

As it washes and whirls,

Whispers, envelops and quietly caresses.

My friends, I have stood in the rain!

Stood in the inundations at Beaumont,

Stood sentry and expectantly there,

In its merciful, cleansing invocations,

Stood watching the approaching rain,

Come to earth like dead children,

Come from heaven,

Come to bring drink to the thirsty valley,

Come to bring hope for the new harvest.

My friends, I have seen the rain!

Felt the rain as it purifies and slakes,

Baptizes and consecrates;

Seen the rain from my gaping window

Many times in old Beaumont,

Inside the white house by the river there,

With Fannie, my brood, and a murder of crows.

My friends, indeed, I have seen the rain!

Come to earth like dead children,

Come from heaven.