Solace (sonnet variation)

A squall unfolds over the sloping road,

Cloaking my rain-pecked face in fresh despair.

I rush forward, nearing the church alone

And hunch against the swoops of surging air.

My pain is not from heartbreak, guilt, or shame,

But sorrow of empty days pressing down.

The sidewalk breaks at the end of the lane,

And I enter my only home in town.

The soft darkness knits stillness over me.

I drift to the pews gentle light reveals.

Settling into prayer on bended knee,

I lay down the sadness I have concealed.

Comfort comes like feathers that slowly fall—

Heaven’s solace never fails when I call.