Friday, September 16, 2016


When the man
built a tall
wooden tower,
his neighbors smiled.
He’d been crazy
all along.

Then his bell
began to ring,
melancholy and deep,
bringing shivers
to the soul.

For the dead
in war it rang,
and for the child
who starves,

For the widow
weeping young
into her pale
wedding gown.

It rang for those
without a home,

For the weak
and lonely old.

It rang for the
sleeping millions
who will never know.

The bell rang
loud and long,
until the neighbors
had all gone mad.

Then they built
their own towers,
and more bells
joined the song.

(From Songs and Letters, September 24, 2005)

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