Windows of Heaven

By Merrijane Rice

When the sky was blue,

My heart was brittle,

Dry to blistered souls

Seeking drink.

So God hung black clouds low,

Let loose His floods,

And poured forth more

Than I could hold.

I sputtered and choked.

He wrapped a hand around my heart

And wrung out sustenance

For others.

The sky is gray,

But my heart is soft.

In drier days,

It would have

Crumbled.

Photograph by LaRene Gaunt