Always broken blinds,
dirty window panes,
I listen for a message
in the language of The Rains.
Hours pass by as I lie
in honesty – open, transfixed,
determined to encourage
Revelation to visit.
On my island where I desire
the silence to shatter
the chaos swirling, chanting,
withholding the answers.
Sun returns
prematurely.
Cross-breeze through screens:
I listen for the whispers
to reveal what I plea, need,
to know
in my bones,
in my soul.
1/6/22
Laura Denise 