Chapel

Weathered steeple towers,
spirit is bleak;
daylight quickly fading,
young girl weeps.

Stained glass is broken,
moon reflects tears;
wind blusters rawly,
solace sought here.

Altar is splintered,
soul wrapped in steel;
morning seems distant,
now she kneels.

Chapel is empty,
heavens appear grey;
faith feels hollow,
still, she prays.

Harp is silent,
candles flicker dim;
shadow seeking haven,
whispers to Him.

Wings are fractured,
darkness settles deep;
sorrow is hushed,
young girl sleeps.

Sun signals daybreak,
blessed chimes ring;
grace emerges,
finally, she sings.

Jennifer Smith is a retired speech-language pathologist, residing in northwest Georgia. Her works are published or forthcoming in The Bluebird Word, WELL READ Magazine, Fictionette, 50-Word Stories, 50 Give or Take, MockingOwl Roost, and Diane Zinna's Letting Grief Speak through Columbia University Press. She enjoys walking and listening to audiobooks. Jennifer is chairman of the Alpha Delta Kappa International Pages and Pearls Book Club.