When I was asked to ring our church bell,
pulling that long rope down then up to the heavens,
I felt so free, trying with all my might to give glory
where it was due.
I listened to the echoes, knowing children would hear
it was Christmas across the country hills and
down the road where bars, post offices, and distant
souls reside.
Then, you came in, stepping up into cool, untouched air,
entering from a secret door as you took the rope
from me, ringing the bell louder and more evenly
than I could.
I remember sitting in the front pew as a child, counting
the number of times I heard ringing, always losing
track yet aware life was just beginning with those
sounds from the bell tower.
You let your heart unravel while God kept the ropes
from fraying.
Too long did those faces break you down, make you
grit your teeth, direct with all the wrong intentions.
But don't walk away, don't accept a boarding pass to
nowhere for your presence is needed here.
Don't be passed by.
I watched as you blessed yourself, tears welling as I
glanced up where I saw the bell proudly swaying.
Don't let go, not now.
You unweighed your burdens to the susceptible
skies yet I still shiver in the night, drawing
my arms closer to myself out of instinct.
May I share what haunts me?
May I tell you I'm not alright when your hug
means the world to me yet is too silent
too often?
You are the one person I would tell,
one who would try to understand, guard me,
and be my friend.
