Painted Glass

The wind batters against my walls.
Its unending attack sends me
Shuddering beneath my shelter.
Something rattles outside,
And I wonder once more
If this will be the wind
To break my house
Of painted glass.

The glass I've so carefully painted
With colorful pictures
To hide the darkness inside.
For fear someone will see
Past the color
To the brokenness beneath.

The plaster smile on my painted face
Cracks in my effort to hide the frown.
I long for the sun to melt this painted glass,
To reach the darkness inside,
And brighten it with the dawn.

The wind batters against my walls,
But a warmth against my painted glass
Fills me with strength to face the attack,
As I look toward the heavens
And see the sun.

*****
(c) 2006 Erica M. Holle. Published in 'Songs of Honour' book by Noble House Publishers, 2006.