How To Be a Ghost
HAPPY HALLOWEEN, DVerse Poets!
How To Be a Ghost
We are alone, and we are alive.
No longer slaves, we reach out
with calloused hands
toward living silence, but
our heart startles us
with blood.
We who loved the whispering woods,
the evening light behind the house,
the path by the river,
the dirty red lights shining
on wet city streets –
the sweet, soundless sorrow
of being free.
When we return,
the breeze and the dawn will
return as well, flourish
under our step.
The cats will know.
We will have walked home,
to live where we will live.
We are the cold of winter
that drips under your collar
while you fumble for keys.
We lurk in shivered shadows
watching for the moment –
the moment when you are
unguarded.
We are the bravados,
that make fools act the part
in the ways of love, and pain,
and the way the two are never distant,
We are the lines you ignore
until you have crossed them.
We are gossamer nights,
and days of tangled sheets -
memories that hold you to your heart.
Nostalgia is our meat and drink.
Not the thing, but what you thought of it.
How it changed you.
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This poem appeared in "Breathing for Clouds" available from Big Table Publishing.
This poem appeared in "Breathing for Clouds" available from Big Table Publishing.
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©2009 Christopher Reilley
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That last stanza rings so true.
ReplyDeleteI love this collective voice of the ghosts that haunts us...
ReplyDeleteThis especially which rings true
We are the cold of winter
that drips under your collar
while you fumble for keys.
This poem is right up my street, Chris! I love that you wrote in the collective voice of ghosts. I especially love the image of ‘the dirty red lights shining / on wet city streets’ and the chilly lines:
ReplyDelete‘We are the cold of winter
that drips under your collar
while you fumble for keys’.
I never considered the collective voices of ghosts, you made a believer of me today! How nostalgia changes us / me ~~ incredibly thought provoking.
ReplyDeleteVery nicely done.
ReplyDeleteThis sends a chill. Love this one specially:
ReplyDeleteWe are the lines you ignore
until you have crossed them.
Watching for the moment you are unguarded...I believe they do!
ReplyDeleteOur nostalgia--collective ghosts. I enjoyed this, Chris. I felt that cold, rain dripping under the collar, and the ending is perfect.
ReplyDeleteThis is incredibly potent! I resonate with; "We are gossamer nights, and days of tangled sheets - memories that hold you to your heart."
ReplyDeleteThose collective ghosts are always there, whether we choose to acknowledge them or not, making their presence felt in intangible ways. Haunting words right off the bat: "We are alone, and we are alive."
ReplyDeleteloved the red lights on dirty streets. ghosts haunting in packs wonderfull
ReplyDeleteStealing from Pink Floyd, "there's a lot of it about."
ReplyDelete