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poetry

He Who Hath Ears

I don't understand why half the world is still crying, man, when the other half the world is still crying too, man. I just can't get it together. -Janis Joplin

Everywhere I go I see
others screaming, “Listen to me!”
Crow caws for fresh water in the bird bath.
Kid slams my trunk, exposing her wrath.
“I’ll get up with you Sunday” then silence.
False bravado, backed by a demilance.
Every preacher thinks they’re right.
Everyone wounded wants to fight.
Walking fast, shuffling slow,
head held high, head hung low.
I want you to know that I hear you,
but I’m never quite sure what to do
with the words you don’t speak.
They’re never what you think
you’re saying. I’m not a mind reader,
but an empathic truth-seeker
bombarded by tacit meanings
never uttered by beings,
yet they all swirl in a vortex in my brain. Do you hear what I see?
Do you listen to me?

My beloved, when at last we meet,
our bodies will accrete.
Into each other's soul we'll stare,
vulnerabilities laid bare.
We will love past all boundaries, bask in the pleasure,
and in my heart you will dwell forever.
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

About Jen and the Furries

Hello and welcome. I’m a 50 something woman who’s probably awake when she should be sleeping. Oh, and there are animals, because who doesn’t have pets?

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