Honor Bell

HONOR BELL

The yoke is on me, ringing in my ears.

The stray sheep chewing the fence,

Digging potholes at the entrance.

The crimes are on me, ringing in my ears.

Defecting my own commands and sounding the horns.

Listening to judges who write with thorns.

The blame is on me, ringing in my ears.

I don the colours, the flag all to see.

I cringe when they point at me.

Their eyes are on me, ringing in my ears.

Lightning as they are, looking like they cared

About the mask I failed to wear.

The rope is on me, ringing in my ears.

Round my neck, awaiting sentence.

The stool below me wobbled then it

Dropped.

Their arms are on me, ringing in my ears.

Catching me as fishes on nets.

Pulled me up they did, out of black waters.

Their prayers are on me, ringing in my ears.

The man on death’s bed chanting,

Can see the most valuable thing.

by The Feather Pencil Chronicles