Sometimes the most powerful stories aren’t shouted; they’re whispered straight from the heart. That’s exactly what Sybil Fulk offers in her moving poetry collection, The Open Window of My Heart. In these pages, she invites readers to sit with her in life’s quietest, hardest, and holiest moments—when love aches, when faith carries, and when nature itself seems to breathe a little hope back into us.
This book is more than poems on paper; it’s a living testimony in verse. Through plain-spoken, faith-forward language, Fulk traces her own journey through widowhood, childhood wounds, and seasons of loneliness. Yet, at every turn, sorrow bends toward healing. The poems move from asking “How do I go on?” to confidently proclaiming “I carried on.”
Her voice is neighborly and unguarded, like a conversation over coffee—or a walk by Oregon’s rivers and coasts, where much of her imagery is rooted. Snowflakes, lighthouses, and mockingbirds aren’t just scenery here; they are symbols of God’s nearness and the enduring lessons of creation.
Recurring throughout the book is a tender dialogue with God. Poems like The Shadow of Your Wing and You Are the Carpenter sound like intimate prayers, anchoring the reader in comfort and reassurance. Others, like The Lighthouse, capture the drama of being rescued from the storm—both literal and spiritual.
But the collection isn’t only about personal healing. Fulk’s compassion reaches outward, with heartfelt tributes to veterans, the forgotten, and everyday heroes. At the same time, she balances her depth with a wink of humor—whether it’s her playful take on a dentist visit or mice invading a quiet night at home.
What makes these poems so compelling is their accessibility. They don’t hide behind lofty metaphors or obscure language. Instead, they open a window into ordinary holiness: an empty chair, a photograph, a bird’s song—all becoming reminders that God is near, that love endures, and that even after loss, there is still light.
Reading The Open Window of My Heart feels like being gently guided through valleys of grief into fields of grace. It’s a book for anyone who has ever mourned, prayed, laughed, or simply looked to the sky for comfort.
And maybe, just maybe, as you turn its pages, you’ll find your own heart opening too—toward peace, toward healing, and toward the One who whispers through every line.