The Storm of the Bells

BY CAROLE NICHOLS

In the darkness of the day,
Growing ever darker in the anger of the storm,
The creature stood chained to the bells,
Masked and taunted, bereft and alone,
A thread-bare cloak to keep him warm.

The mask of the falcon bent to the keys,
Beating a song to the sound of the wind,
Ringing the bells in a haunting tune,
His tears hidden, yet falling down,
Hands and feet moving again and again.

Into the notes moved his heart and soul,
Even as lightning raged in the sky,
Thunder joined in, a most beautiful song,
The mask lifted up, eyes dearly searching,
As the heavens and earth began to cry.

In the tempest, trees bowed to the ground,
Humbled by the power of the song;
Leaves swirled close to kiss the mask
Hiding his face from the cruelty of the world,
A man who only wished to belong.

Nature was wild on that stormy day,
Wilder yet, was the song of the bells,
And the angels came down, wings spread wide,
Drawn by the peal and the poor souls prayer
Their voices joining that musical spell.

When the storm at last found it's peace,
The bells echoed a final sound,
Gone was the man from his chained perch,
Gone were the bells that sang in the storm,
The cloak and the mask all that was found.