I asked for them, and when the horizon darkened and the clouds gathered, my cowardly heart retreated. It had already accepted the heartbreak that was destined to come, as sure as the storm, curled up into a ball and proceeded to ignore me as I stood on the edge of the field and waited. Numbness and hope flared up in confused competition as the winds gained speed, but my heart refused to open its eyes and look on.
My soul looked upon the scene and, exhilarated, made its choice, opened itself to the floods that would come. Found the God of its strength to be Faithful. It braced itself, and spoke words of peace to my heart when the first hesitant raindrops began to fall on my face.
Press on. Open wide. Swallow deep. Lean hard.
It is not all as it seems. Even if everything crumbles, we will build again, my soul says. We have a head start on the reconstruction if we only stand to watch it.
My heart gathers new fears from memory as the clouds gather strength from the sky and my soul is entwined with what is yet to be. I am here in the midst of it all, waiting for the storm.