Bells
angels my mom would say
walking into
Saint Peter’s cold breath.
It was strange to me, the stone floors,
my polished shoes and her heely
steps, how far they’d echo
when angels seemed so close
awake and shining
through stained glass.
Today
revisiting the cathedral
I still hear that walking echo
watching as the windows
seem to pull me
closer to the sun
to the thought of angels.
Mom never told me
when she prayed with shaking hands
hands shaking back the sleeves
of her black dress
how far I’d have to travel
not to hear my feet hit
hard ground―
she just put me in a pew
like this one, let me pray and stare.
She said it was good to see angels.
To read more poetry by James O'Neill Miller go to http://depoetry.com/poets/201311/07-james_oneill_miller.html
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The Delaware Poetry Review, or DePoetry.com, is an online compilation of amazing, contemporary poetry gathered by a group of erudite editors based in the Mid-Atlantic Region. This notable compilation of poetry has been available since 2007, publishing new editions about once a year.
Each edition features a variety of poets chosen by the editors. This blog features our published poets.
More new works from the Mid-Atlantic Region are available at DePoetry.com. For feedback, contact depoet@capegazette.com or go to facebook.com/delawarepoetryreview.
