It is not I who cause my heart to beat.
I am the recipient of life,
The legatee of form.
My heartbeat continues, unabated,
Until You say, this much and no more,
Then and only then,
Will my soul take leave,
Departing this earth, this time.
I will my heart’s beating,
Sound as a prayer in Your ear,
That You may hear me murmuring love,
Throbbing with desire in my groaning,
That my imperfection resound as supplication,
Beating upon Your breast, a plaintiff reverberation,
Crying and wooing,
As a babe trusting, trusting.
© 2016 Joann Nelander