The Corners of Her Soul

The church bells are summoning

the sinners, the tithers

the devoted and the forced

I hear them resounding deep within

but no footsteps of my shape shall cross the threshold

this Sunday, maybe any

My faith is in the bells

and the corners of nature that the notes tuck themselves in

I’m a child of the Universe

replete with sin and the know how to ask forgiveness

of a power nowhere and yet everywhere

who doesn’t burden my soul with damnation

that will destroy His time consuming dedication in fire and brimstone

I am a student of One who is patient with my human ways

accepting of my faults

born from blessings

bestowed upon weaknesses

granted in times of imperfection

and the cycle is orbiting, all consuming, enlightening

I hear the church bells and I watch as the masses flock

quick steps and slouched posture

eyes and fingers locked on digital communication

unforgiving pavement

the unapologetic ticking clock

But no one looks to the bells

to the notes that dance among the applauding autumn leaves

and the beauty of Him and Her and We

in a world where all bear witness

to miracles in the continual resurrection of Life’s seasons

They don’t take the time to pause

to feel the music of Communion in their souls

in a fundamental House of the Holy

…Until that is

my eyes fall to the face of youthful innocence

suspended in silence and awe

for the bells and the notes

that tuck themselves in the corners of her soul

E.A. O'Connell