Saved by the Bells

Saved by the Bells

It came on slow, that Monday sound,

a clang, a call from chapel ground.

I wasn’t looking for a sign,

but still it cut through fate and time.

I’d walked too far from what I knew,

through streets that never once felt true,

and every clock had lied to me,

till that one struck, and set me free.

It wasn’t holy, not by name,

just rusted brass and weathered frame,

a ring that told the world to pause,

and whispered hush without a cause.

They say some souls are saved by grace,

a sermon, light, a kindly face.

Mine caught a toll I can’t explain,

it stopped the noise inside my brain.

I stood alone, I stood in place,

and felt the tears crawl down my face.

Not sadness, no, not quite regret,

just something raw I won’t forget.

The bells kept swinging overhead,

as if they knew the things I said,

the ones I’d screamed when no one heard,

each sorrow sealed without a word.

No hymn, no priest, no saving spell,

just me, and time, and those old bells.

They rang until the fear was gone,

then silence said, it’s time, move on.

So if I falter, if I fall,

I won’t be waiting for a call.

The clang remains beneath my skin,

it pulled me out, it dragged me in.

And all I am, and all I’ll be,

was saved the day it rang for me.