Esperanto
The precarious beat of the lonely heart,
The valiant pump of life's blood
There in its dark cavern, working,
Working.
Who thinks of thee, dear heart
'Til you cry out in anguish,
Perhaps to be stilled forever?
Stilled.
Pick up a silken, squirming puppy,
Feel the wild throb of terror
And love.
Gradually it slows, trusting.
Listen sometime, if you can,
to the beat of a baby's heart
Within the womb. Deep.
Muffled
Pick up an injured birdling, gently,
Oh, ever so gently.
Mute eyes seemingly unblinking,
Watchful.
Let his warmth permeate your hand-
Speak softly, murmur reassurance-
There is a universal language.
The language of the heart.
God knows.
© Robert Ernest LaRock (1920-1978)
posted by rel @ 3:05 PM
3 comments
3 Comments:
You must look to see.......
Open your eyes.........
Your father wrote some beautiful poetry. I will come back to read some more, time to time, I also write poetry, so I appreciate others works as well.
Rel,
this is beautiful thanks for sharing it with us. There is a universal language and it does lie within our hearts.
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