On Ringing the Bells In Coventry

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The old cathedral sits aloof
With toothy tower and absent roof.
Its nave has puddles brimmed by rain,
And silent walls all cracked with pain.

An open window spans one end,
And sawn off columns to earth descend.
Its bells for Reconciliation ring,
For Peace, not Hate that War doth bring. 

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Brave they are who sit and stare,
And contemplate the lack of care,
For gentle people forced to fight
And what they lost to save what’s right.

Fought to right those awful wrongs,
And paid the price with moonlight’s bombs.
Its bells for Reconciliation ring,
For Peace, not Hate that War doth bring. 

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‘Coventried’, goes the name,
When people died from air raid flame.
It marked a turn up of the wick,
To long and bloody, not short and quick.

Rebuilt cities tell the tale
Across the globe, of war’s travail.
I’ve rung those bells, their voices rail
‘Let not War, nor Hate, but Peace prevail.’
©Keith Murphy