Bells
by Odin Roark

Where'd it go,
That twice a day relief,
Leaving behind blackboard's chalk-lines
Rushing onto the blacktop chalk-lines,
Where hopscotch,
Poison line,
River ball,
Target ball,
Quickly made chalk nubs a celebration,
Fun-filled getaways—a daily mend,
Sad-faced classroom returns—a daily spoiler?

We weren’t told…

That recess bell ringing in our ears,
Would evolve into a personal aging clock
Announcing workplace coffee breaks,
Triggered by anxiety pangs,
Designed to feel generous,
Concession programmed for morale.

Soon, re-thinking sets in…

Chalkboards out,
Monitor screens in,
Grownup hours made endless,
Recess available only between
The 9 to 5 work stress
And the 7 to 10 at home-office sanctum.

“Where'd it go?” we ask.

Those simple breaks of our playground-youth
When escape from control-seeking authority
Simply meant racing under and in-between Jungle Gyms,
Tricky bars, teeter totters and slide-downs,
Easily letting off steam that made innocent sweat,
Natural laughter that was infectious,
Rewarding exhaustion no amount of head-time on the desk
Could relieve.

If only…

Yesterday’s homework hadn’t been destined
To but prepare one for a thankless thank-you
Where gold pens of recognition,
Gold watches of retirement,
Or golden parachutes for playground bullies
Was what it was all about.

Some wonder what it would be like
To accept acknowledgment without material reward,
Do the right thing just because…
Enjoy empowering others to be who they really are,
Instead of killing themselves trying to be what others say they should be.

And then there is the inevitable sigh…

Perhaps life's profit margin is destined to remain ever-questionable,
Perpetuating the Stock Exchange’s opening bell
As the only sound left to ring in our ears.