Rick Jantz, Writer

I walked away

from people who cared.

Long of leg and sure of foot

I swathed the sidewalk clear.

My spirit lived one hundred feet

in a pit that deepened.

Walled face, brick by brick

blocked another’s entry.

A dark reflection, mine,

I won’t look, I scare myself.

Why do I stride so fast?

To prove I exist but don’t matter?

A face comes that knows me.

Quick, duck.  This store will hide me.

Danger passes but I wish

that someone chased me, just once.

Pause.

No one pursued again.

A friendly voice is faster

than racing legs that want to stop.

No one called.

Walk until…

The bell nailed on the house.

Distant laughter of screaming children.

The two would soon be one

as a wrinkled hand

grabbed the chain

and whipped it furiously.

Pavlov’s dog re-imagined

in the speedy response to lunch

the bell demanded.

Parents ring and are ignored.

Grandma rings a command.

How can children tell

grandma’s touch?

With what power

does she whip the clapper?

This bell, a magic bell,

from grandma’s heart to theirs,

a ringing bond of love.

The bell mounted on our wall

it’s work of calling wayward children

is over, except for the memories.

Adult children tear up

when they visit

and remember fondly

grandma’s call.

Silent now the bell vibrates

waiting for the next round of grandkids.

Who is it I am?

And because I don’t know

how do I find out

who I am

and what I’m to do?

I look at the bounty

of those I would be like

and know I am meager

of self and belongings.

Take a step forward?

But the cliff is there

reminding me there’s nowhere

to put my foot down

without falling.

It is the fall I fear,

the great unknowing.

I am my own

but wishful tendrils remain

of the safe life

I once had.

Resolute, I close my eyes,

reach out with a foot

and step,

fearing the fall

but fearing more to stay.

Life, you are mine,

catch me.

Above the clouds and higher still

in wing-ed thought I fly.

The world a speck and smaller still

light lost in darkening sky.

To some a street, others a tunnel

the answer now I know.

Strange familiar is all around

a scent of home long left.

A comforting touch, spirit to mine

guides me to the Creator.

I tried to bow but not allowed

without taking all of heaven with me.