'First Rain' is a spirit journey to pull together a 'necessary, fractured past', a poetic record of a struggle towards wholeness. In the first part, 'Bush Roots', Weir-Soley recovers her ancestral past in a series of narratives and dramatic monologues that give a living, breathing portrayal of a Jamaica that is gone, but whose parable-speaking elders still offer a guide to survival. Whether from actual memory, the fragments of family story, the clues from photographs or from a dreaming imagination, Weir-Soley presents a grandfather's 'dutty-tuff' vision, a grandmother's 'bush magic', the practical, gruff goodness of Uncle Miguel, the car mechanic who teaches generations of boys useful skills, who she sees as Ogun, a 'lesser god/for a greater good', and many others. These are people she makes you regret not having known, but grateful that she shares them.
It is a world built up in careful detail, a complex, nuanced world that contains both neighbourly solidarity, but also the dividing gradations of class, skin-colour and occupation; a world where women can be treated as beasts of burden, where 'outside' children suffer emotional abuse, but where men like her uncle are shown behaving with great tenderness towards children. Against the solidity of this world, part two, 'Exiled Musings', contrasts the nightmarish, temporariness of Caribbean migrant life in the USA, a people 'orphaned from our homes'. Here, Weir-Soley brings the realities of the travails of young black men with the law, black on black violence, crack and HIV/Aids into sharp and often angry focus. But in the final parts, 'Heartwars' and 'Incantations', we see the struggles to rebuild family and respect, and the capacity for joy and sensuality, the resilience and spirituality of a people who never lose their sense of God's grace.