Been writing pomes

[tamaravining]

Ember

I have an angel
made of white light
behind my right shoulder
silent and tall
almost too bright to look at
eyes closed
concentrating so hard
with one hand always resting
on my shoulder
encased in an oven mitt.

She’s here to help
(thank you)
because I’m burning
or was burning
or burned
my whole outer shell off
getting rid of every old thing
all they way down to cinders.

It’s a painful process.

Now I am
a smoldering black and amber
cracked
ember
of a me.
My truth still at the core
somewhere in there.
There’ll be this
duck
rising out of the ashes
any day now.
A funny side effect -
I don’t feel like crying any more.

They are all sending
cooling thoughts my way:
chill out
coo-ool, man
frr-osty
chill, chill

I couldn’t help but wonder -
Why start over?
New soul purpose?
New life purpose?
New friends?
I didn’t especially want
a whole new community
but they’re not especially listening
to me
it seems.
A whole new community
means getting rid of the old ones.
Or they got rid of me.
It wouldn’t have happened without my consent
in some form
I keep telling my self.

Would you trade your everyday
safe
(happy?)
life
for a promised life
of ecstasy?
Do you believe
everything you’re told?
Signs and messages
gifts and
fortuitous accidents
piling up,
the only indication
that there is
an incredible
universe
next door -
also found within.

[updated 10:27 p.m. 11/29/06]