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.
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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.