REMAINS OF ME from James Goertel’s bi-weekly poetry feature, Under The Same Moon, rings bells and rails against the congregation.
REMAINS OF ME
I am no longer here
lying prostrate among you,
only the ringing of broken bells
remains of me,
dull smoke of sound
where words once resounded,
my own truth forsaken
in a church built from hysteria
by a congregation of lost souls
each claiming a virgin birth,
though born as we are
to our own circumspect circumstance.