By Bryan Porter

 

 

I heard his heart,

Louder than sirens,

 

Whispering in the wind

A silent trumpet,

Signaling the coming of the king,

 

Hearted incantation.

Entered my ears,

Played my arteries and veins,

Until my flesh chanted.

 

Sacred.

 

I heard his heart,

A brass from God

Playing without rest.

It is Holy.

 

Blocked the sun,

Split the sky,

Poured grace from its breast,

 

I was not surprised,

When its power could no longer reside in his chest.

____________________________________________________________

Bryan  is a Junior at the University studying Psychology,  hailing from the windy city of Chicago. He is also the President of the Black Student Union.