Irreplaceable
Acrylic on canvas, 107x165 cm
2019
The bell rings.
I succumb to its tones,
Become it.
And it continues
Resonating through me
Like a sharp knife,
Slicing me apart
With its tempered metal.
I wince with wonder
And questions,
Not understanding for moments
Its significance,
And then it ends.
And there are no answers,
Just some precious silence
That embraces me
Within itself.
My heartbeat
Seems to start again,
And I realise
That fragility of life,
Like the bell,
Resonating,
Sending waves from me
Where I touch,
And walk,
And talk,
And think,
And stop in stillness.
All those metaphors,
Distorted,
Like the sounds we make.
We may be waves or particles.
We may applaud or ridicule,
Take offence or defence,
Or laugh or sing,
Or ring the bell,
And let it tell us
A story only we can hear,
Again.
 
 
Painting by JP Pemapsorn 
Poetry by Carl Piaf