• by Landon Moore • from the 2008 Sage Literary Magazine •
The bells in the church are wrong
Forgetting to forward spring
Computer sings twelve at one
The people here like the sound I guess
A learned melody
An hourly reminder
Of adult normalcy.
But I prefer the old messy clangs
Naïve childhood dreams
Before we were all disillusioned
By this modern Gethsemane.
Yesterday, I went to the church
Searching for History’s iron bell
What I found was an empty tower
No home for Emmanuel.
All I saw were plastic buttons
A keyboard of red, yellow, and green
To cue the mechanized music
That lies its faith to you and me.
And where is that naïve youth
Who swings hard on bell’s braided rope?
A ghost who haunts our memories
Flashing in momentary glimpses of hope.
This must be enlightenment
“I don’t believe in anything,” I say.
Hollow towers ring hollow truths
to victims of my age.