Chapel

The most noticeable thing heard is opening doors.

Occasionally the small mumbling of a 

Pleading child.

Rarely the tears of a 

Mother dripping onto the floor.

The flames upon the wax candles

Sizzling, as hands are clasped together.

Turning of pages,

Flipping to a desperate prayer. 

As bells ring,

This moment is gone.

The silence is lifted 

And you’re forced to move on.