The Bells of San Xavier

Emerging from a doorway shadow 

   Through thick air - sweet with incense - 

Comes a dark figure dressed in a robe 

   To be near the altar in silence. 

The trappings pierce the dark with gold; 

   Upon him fall the eyes of those saints -

Portraying the centuries of old -

   And every breeze makes them shift shape. 

His fist is clenched over his rosary

   As he mutters a prayer of small sound. 

The peace is sacred and momentary 

   And it speaks to a heart as cold as stone. 

Over the ghostly flames of candles -

His vacant eyes go up a tower

   And he thinks he hears

   That which shrills

The Bells - the Bells of San Xavier. 

As his prayer hovers in the smoke -

   He remembers priests who've come and gone

And there lingers a bitter hope

   To join them and the angels among. 

He struggles against purgatory

   That curses him for reasons unknown. 

His life on Earth was exemplary

   But God has not yet called him home. 

Visions of yesteryear play back

   And thoughts of one woman remain. 

Surely loving kindness is not bad. 

   He wonders if his life was in vain

Then shaking off the feeling of sin -

Returns the passion by which he sware

   And with that spirit

   Fighting rings vivid

The Bells - the Bells of San Xavier. 

Echoes of laughter come down the hall - 

   High-pitched on the ears - innocent -

Broken by children coming through the wall - 

   Dead for so long they think nothing of it. 

They are translucent in the moon's glow

   Like a rushing wind since the fire

Released their essence many moons ago -

   Behind them follows a Sister. 

Like a father who loves his children -

   He draws them nigh with nothing said. 

Their twinkling eyes cause him to grin; 

   He blesses each one upon their head. 

With the cares of his heart made light -

The nun chases them into the air

   As if their flight

   Was called by that night

The Bells - the Bells of San Xavier. 

Once again - he is left with his thoughts

   And he turns to face the empty pews. 

The hope of the church has not been lost;

   The energy felt there is profuse. 

Off to the side - he peers down the transept

   And beholds the glass reliquary

Keeping an effigy and thinks how placid

   This remote sanctuary can be.

 

Again - he thinks of the one tower up high -

   Remembering that it's his soul's bane -

And swears that before the Age passes by -

   He will finish it with a bell someway. 

A wind blows in and snuffs out some wicks

And halts that concern of loving care

   But through the darkness

   Rings true his promise

The Bells - the Bells of San Xavier.