word jumble

Words come tumbling, jumbling out,
a collection of random letters
spoken into the unhearing ear;
and, while I try to keep my wordcount
to a reasonable roar, there are more,
there are more and more and more. 

   Will you hear me; will you listen
   though I speak without precision?
   Will you sort through all your fear
   of my message and lend me your ear?
   Is my ringing like singing or just a din?
   Have I lost your heart; can’t I ever win? 

What a mystery is this thing called
communication!  How far we have
come from grunts and pointing,
yet still so inarticulate in expressing
our longings, for what we want is
to be implicitly and wordlessly known.

    So do you want to hear what I say,
    or do you want me to just go away?
    Can we meet in the in-between
    the my being right and you being seen?
    Is my ringing like singing or just a din?
    Have I lost your heart?  Do I need to win?

 Liz McFadzean