Poem: Thrown Heart – 12/02/20

I live with the constant threat of thunder within my heart,
a ticking timebomb,
I will be thrown, I will be thrown.
 
Waves of solidarity and tempestuous awareness
creep forth, 
yet, I do not mind;
as long as the tip is overwhelming
I will live for that view.
 
Finding myself awash with the swimming feeling
of pleasure which only exhibits itself alongside the knowledge
that I alone can see, can feel, can experience,
this arrangement.
 
By traipsing forward,
I am wreaking havoc on another being
but it’s necessary to gain experience and then
regain my independence.
 
The other’s experience may exist,
yet it is flawed,
claws cruelly set,
bared teeth in time.  
Perhaps it is is not their fault that poor luck
chases them round and round.
 
Bring the gusts and rain down!
Permit us the flattened image of
mice hastening to their expiry,
once happily scurrying.
 
Upon their squirming bodies place droplets of
scented aromas to anoint them,
reverent,
full of respect, we are for even the smallest fallen,
the scent becoming rich in your nostrils
take a deep sniff of them, I won’t mind at all

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

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