bell tower

bell tower


the stairs  high as any fall
i’ve known
still we pulled ourselves up
seeing each other
the view held nothing for us
only more grey from which
we’d climbed.
the bell cast hung over
the day  the shape
of tempered quiet we’d
hammered our own dreams into
cut word within.
we couldn’t lift the wood
struck it with our gloved hands
the sound hardly tipped the
quiet, i thought,
unknowing how loud it could
ring on in us
a telling of
the longing long held unstruck
unknown to others   self hung
on the cold         waiting each other’s hand
to ring warm
ring loud.

march 1994

Copyright © 1994 Peter Le Baige.  All Rights Reserved

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