top of page


By Naomi Kim '21

The cemetery at Glendalough is grass and old stone,

Wind and creeping moss. From inside the church

In ruins, I can see the sky: startling blue

Shining in from the opening in the wall.

They say that from the tower over there,

The monks announced time with a bell,

Each peal a call to prayer.

During Advent, the sky is gray overhead

As we walk past skinny bare-branched trees.

The church bells sing a carol

In silver clear and bright, each note

A joyous shout into the winter air:

Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel

Born is the King of Israel!

But I—I am a bell without a clapper:

I believe; help my unbelief.

Show me how to sweep the dusty floors with care

To gather broken bits of straw.

Guide my hands to make a manger in my heart:

Come be the ringing song I sing,

And teach my shrunken soul to magnify your name.


Mark 9:24 (ESV)

Luke 1:46


bottom of page