It's Still Life

I. The Church Bells Are Ringing

A sound like angels exhaling. 
God’s finger, thimbled, sewing 
prayers into our thoughts. 

I must be his great agitation, 
always folding my heart, 
and squandering my days. 

My dad once punched a tree. 
That was after I told him 
to never hit Mum again. 

She cried like a siren. 
I think of her whenever 
an ambulance rushes by 

with medics ready to save  
someone, unfold their heart, 
resuscitate honesty again.

II. The Unready

I'm not ready for that long dream 
with its white walls, and confused 
words breathed behind a mirror.
Where time spins like leaves, 
or feathers. 

I'm not ready for windows blocked  
with cold ashes of the moon, 
without a spill of sunlight,
or to be departed by wind, 
or lying with trees because 

my finest hour 
is yet to be seen.

Written for Miz Quickly’s QNV2: Honesty and NaPoWriMo at Writers’ Digest “2-4-Tuesday “Ready and Unready“. Shared with #APoemADay on Twitter   ©Misky 2021