Broken Blind(ers)

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

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