The Storm
Steeples reach but fail to touch the sky Barren pews and stale communion bread Songs that call for rain that never comes When will we admit that we are dead?
We built a wall to keep the Spirit out Lip service to the Word but hearts so cold Rules and rules and rules and rules and rules We leave the best of us out of the fold
I was sick and lost and needed hope You went by me on the other side Turned your face away so not to see My wounded hands and feet, my piercéd side
You set a crown of thorns upon my brow You battered me with words that flayed my soul You mocked my hopes and dreams, the way I love You told me I could never be quite whole
Lightning strike Thunder roll Whirlwind come Torrent fall Shatter glass and burn it down Blow it all away
You are done My time has come I am the storm And we will never be the same
This story is a response to Prism & Pen’s writing prompt Stormy Weather!