Slay Bells

She walks head down
dressed in the darkest shades of night
there is no pride in her posture
no grace in her stance
she walks as if the eyes didn't bother her
the rain like needles in her back as she passed
no avowal of warmth
no smile to crack the corners of dry lips
no sound as light feet carry her up the darkened streets

As she passes
she leaves no token that she has come this way
No sign that she may return no lingering scent
To be picked up by the dogs and sang of in the rain
There is no sound Sept. for that of bells
Tiny silver bells hidden in the folds of insecurity
Wrapped with the lowliest drab
Secured to a broken heart

In her wake
the knowledge of what's befallen her swirls
in foot scattered reflections in muddy sidewalk puddles
the story of a life unfolds