I.
Prologue: the poet’s thoughts
All saintly people
help me know I am a pebble in their shoe.
Sheesh,
even my angel backs off for a few days.
II.
Possible Part One:
Science calls bullshit
on righteous theories that trot spite
around godless traditions.
Poetic cue:
Self-awareness wrestles with a crack that opens
as tons of water pull roots away from memory
and me-me-me’s heartbeat accelerates
into shimmering droplets of yesteryears
that fade into tracks
held deep within
empty.
Bereft of me,
light opens.
Brenda Warren 2015
Visit The Sunday Whirl
undercaws 
into shimmering droplets of yesteryears
that fade into tracks
Easier in getting across communicating with people one is familiar with in yesteryears. That is true, Brenda!
Hank
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First of all, let me say how friggin’ delighted I am to see this poem. While, i didn’t write one this week, just seeing your poem makes me happy. (I know I am weird). I love the opening, because there is so much truth in it. I have known far too many of those types in my life, in fact I still know a couple. but it is the last stanza the “poetic cue” that struck me. I will contemplate that stanza. An honest piece of writing and I love how you set it up.
Love,
Pamela ox
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Isn’t it difficult, getting rid of the ‘me’? Your poem is very thought-provoking.
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Getting ourselves out of the way is so hard to do, but it is, as you say, the way for the light to come.
Replay: To Double Your Whirling Pleasure
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Oh my, I am about to read it a third time. It is deep and I am worried about those roots. I may think of the last stanza many times today. Love this piece!
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I love this – it feels like a mix of pushing away the unhelpful and so called saintly people (who rarely are)…and gathering in the light and things which illuminate you… hold tight to your angel…
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It helps to get on with people when they accept you as you are…and are still friends!
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Love, love, love your opening prologue. I know this one…but also that bereft feeling in the last, until that light opens and brings endless possibilities.
Elizabeth
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