The Plight of Human Heart

Like the birthing of a brook

To the swelling of the sea

It’s tenure not of flesh and blood

Bleeds agonizing ecstasy

Borne earnestly in mortal fronds

Of trembling lip and timorous touch

An ocean held within the bonds

Of heartbeat, thought and prayer and such

From whence it springs, I cannot say

But oh, it steals my breath away

Violent, intense, reclusive, sweet

It keens the mute and morbid dark

Or rages where the floundering dream

Pines for its pure and virgin spark

Its mighty ethereal eons surge

Fulcrum of ageless misery

Yet author of love-song and dirge

And raw, unpolished poetry

From whence it swells, I do not know

But oh, it makes me miss you so

Does jasmine by the summer brook

Bear unbeknownst, its misery?

Or eagle on the rocky crag

Do they suffer such ecstasy?

Nay, I dare say such wordless want

Though whispered in the wandering wind

And murmured in the hidden haunt

Where poplar sighs and brook-songs blend

Must be endured in fleshed rampart

Longing; the plight of human heart

© Janet Martin