Grace

A contrite heart looks heavenward,
Seeking compassion,
Fearing judgement
Eyes closed, hands outstretched,
Whispering a silent prayer
For deliverance.


Dark clouds thicken, convene,
Obscuring faint starlight...
The winds blow strong
And loudly howl
As if to reprimand,
As if, to condemn.


An unseen hand
Writes verdict across violent skies
In streaks of silver
And raises a resounding disapproval,
With faint echoes of
An unexpected understanding.


Heaven spreads wide its arms
And lets fall mercy drops
Which pelt down hard and cool,
Cleansing, refreshing the soul
And washing away every regret, every grief.
Sometimes, calm comes after the storm.