Prism by Stephanie Nygaard

I am a prism.
I hang lifeless in Mrs. Snow’s window,
shut off from all light,
until Pollyanna opens the curtains.

I am a prism.
I am cold and colorless,
a blessing to no one,
until a ray of God’s glory
shines through,
and then I’m bursting
with fragments of rainbows—
I am a word of emerald,
a painting of amethyst,
a photo of deep rose—
come to life
and dancing,
a waltz on the walls.

I am a prism.
I hang quietly in the window of life,
waiting
for God to pierce me
and scatter my colors
where he directs.
I am a prism.

Stephanie Nygaard lives on (almost) seven acres of land in Central Illinois with her husband, Jim, and three daughters, whom she homeschools. The Bible, beauty, and books offer an endless supply of inspiration for her writing, which she hopes will point people to God. Stephanie can often be found with a book in one hand, a cup of tea in the other, and a journal in her lap. She firmly believes one can never have too many photos of the sunset. Stephanie shares her writing and other creative offerings on Black Barn Online and Instagram.