Like the sound of rolling thunder on the distant hills, my heartbeats clamber to be heard, (to be heard), received and acknowledged by you, at your breezy window sill. Your hand reaches out to grab the distant beats, the uniquely peculiar patterning that pounds, and pounds and pounds, from my sill to yours, a distant utterance which begs to be translated: what does it call for? When transformed, will my percussive pattern affect your strong and courageous, masculine disposition, into quietly affected, weeping eyes? This vulnerable beating is all for you. How harrowed I once was without you, without this link, how now when I look back my life seemed utterly empty and terrifying, I was morose, broken, somewhat together but alone, and now that we are here, window sill to window sill, glancing into the darkness wondering at the other, you’ve brought me back to life, and I can send you my heartfelt rhythmic dictations, my life force representing my dreams, my quietly built courage. I want to receive your beats, to capture your fervour, perhaps one day we will meet face-to-face, and I’ll embrace you, my surprisingly welcome saviour. © 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved. Image by Comfreak from Pixabay
YouTube Poem videos: Lauren M. Hancock Poetry
