Mary in the Square

She stands, motionless, amidst the maelstrom; thunder roars and lightning cracks that threaten to rend the skies apart. Driving rain finds a way through the canopy of oaks and drenches her, pasting the fabric of her gown against goose fleshed skin in a fevered lovers embrace.
Then, just for a moment, there is calm, and she raises her eyes to the heavens and screams, a caterwauling wail that echoes through the square and attempts to raise the dead.