The Ringing of The Bell by Margaret Leora Workman; Warponie Art
How many years have gone by
before you are dead, gone and buried?
Many times, I have hoped for your acquiescence.
Your symbol of deceit,
your breadth of confidence
that guided my way into that silent pathway of both despair and love.
Could I make it?
Did I want to? go into your wanderings.
I found out with displeasure eventually.
How many times were you there because you said that you couldn’t
and I went out for you.
But your breadth was so wide the whole room agreed
that you were there all along.
But I don’t remember you being there
in that square
of nothing but difficulty and death.
How many types can eat together?
The decision is theirs I realized.
How can I make it comfortable for thee?
So that you will live and fly well?
Will I always be in hell?
making that pillow of squares for you?
What if your brain is different than mine?
Can I share mine with you?
If I do
what will happen to me eventually?
If I were drowning, would you save me?
Or would you
graduate and leave me?
I guess that is how it is done.
So, it’s for the best I tell myself.
Please don’t put me on that shelf
with that top that spins.
I used to hope for something more
but that’s all folklore.
Is there a lot of important work to do?
Oh, good let us add it together like we used to do
one plus one equals two
Oh, remember my question?
You are asking me now because I asked the one before me in line.
That line is for the silent pathway of empty cans to recycle.
But you can only find them in the ditch
So how do we get the payment for
the destination if we can’t veer off of the path?
What else can we sell?
And who can we tell?
Do you hear the sound of the bell?
It’s coming from that well!
Its calling for the next in line.
How do we stuff them down in
and make it slide down joyfully without dismay?
Is there a way?
Time is running out
so don’t be a lout
and not do your part.
We have to go…
are we the ones to decide?
No, find the next one in line.
Oh…. that’s me…
How can this be?
I didn’t know that the bell was
calling for me,
but it’s not you,
so, help me in so that I can
go in peacefully for you and the next.
Still now I want your full attention
even at this hour that is nearby.
Do you care?
Please look at me and say it one time.
by Margaret Leora Workman; Warponie Art
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