It had not rained in many days
and only hot and burning rays
were lavished on the tiny flora
but prayer to the Cantadora
was not rewarded with success
it seemed that spirits could care less.
For forty days and forty nights
the flower kept within her sights
all clouds in hopes that they would cry
but nothing happened, time went by.
On Christmas day the rains then started
but many plants had gone, departed
the purple flower had held up
projected from her petals’ cup
a message written in dark green
it was precise and could be seen
in Heaven and, of course, in Hell
and when at last the raindrops fell
God read the message he could see
it said, ‘dear God, please wait for me.’