Cloudy

Cloudy Wednesday of Holy Week,

  the day before a day of lasts.

A celebration meal, an act of love,

  extravagant and for all.

The last time gathered in prayer,

  and songs sung going out.

The things remembered and 

  cherished in the heart.

Where do we find the treasure,

  in the midst of pain.

Only in walking through it,

  the hard shell is weak.

Because it breaks from bitterness,

  so find the way to walk.

Into the cloudy days, expectant,

  full of the passing storm.