knell

for all its varying sizes — in its closest jingling highs, its pleasant dancing middles, and most resonant lows — even from a distance, each tilted strike within it, or without, sends a ringing awakening that repeats like ripples out from a stone thrown into a pond; although a bell's ringing sometimes hits you — either by the bell's proximity and/or material construction — a bit off-center, but it will ting-tang, or reverberate, and gather a certain meaning within you (either christmas cheer, new year, an honoring, or call to prayer, a warning, a signal to send help — to take up arms in defense — maybe even a simplified music played by children), and will be at once recognized for its size and probable intent; and this clanging makes one instantly aware of the invisible air, and how the body — caught, off-guard in the sudden onomatopoeia of the thing, by a ding-dong (or deep loud bong) — but also the ground below, is hollow.

-devin wayne davis 2022-   https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/xaheja/mourning/intpfp3?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/xagzxn/perfume_of_persia/intqj8h?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3