Bells ring.
Alarm bells,
striking the hour of the day.
Shaking me out of my
silent reverie,
into a dark world
full of endless
empty streets.
Hear them ring.
Church bells at noon,
and I am young,
far too young
for the knowledge
that floats in my head.
Bobbing along,
like the wreckage
of a plane crash;
cargo,
bodies,
and loss.
Bells in the fog.
Herald of the harbor.
Guides me past
the rocks
and safely home.
It is strange
to know in life
two journeys;
one tragic,
the other, jubilant.
Bells in my head.
Acknowledging the threat vector
does not mean
there is no
corridor for ambush.
Hairs on the back of my neck
stand jack pine stiff,
as I feel
my enemy’s eyes upon me.
Too vulnerable here.
Keep moving.
Stay ready.
Wedding bells.
Ring out on the day
that changes so many lives.
A primrose promise,
and vows
spoken before God
in a little,
inner city church.
Preacher speaking
about the words,
and The Word,
but all I can think about
is how you take my breath away.
The bell tolls.
For whom?
All of us
in time.
Angels strike the hammer
and we are all called
Home to our Father,
eventually.
We’re gonna wake
from this dream.
It’s a fact;
the only fact, really.
Whatever it means.
We’ll all hear the bells
ringing clean.
HG – 2022
