When Only Spirits Remain
When Only Spirits Remain
I. Spirits
When Erika and I first met I warned
her spirits follow everywhere I go
a void surrounds me out of time will show
my boyhood dog by my side always stayed.
The name of our first son from spirit realm
when I was ten instead of playing ball
I conjured on my Ouija board from Hall
growing Blue Belladonna with Witch Elm.
This world of spirits full of names and date
which soon would leave my mind without a trace
whether I see or not the truth still stands.
These forces on my life permutate
by placing pressure upon my living space
a place where only my God understands.
II. Ignorance
In young adulthood studied science stern
as religious belief and pushed spirits
to shadowy corner of eyes limits
the spirits took up none of my concern.
They walked with me within many forests
or on the road hitchhiking through every state
a young adult who did not care for fate
from one ocean to another one’s crests.
My friends a circle of the long deceased
or more like souls in search of a new home
or pets of mine who chose to stay nearby.
These figures never declined or decreased
they follow me wherever I may roam
in cold the solid breath of other’s sigh.
III. Lover’s Lament
So many hauntings from my long lost loves
where lover scorned would barter with the dead
to follow behind my footsteps instead
as reminder of our planted Foxgloves.
Do they all talk of me amongst themselves
or close their eyes during my intimate
moments alone, are our boundaries set,
do they sleep quietly upon my shelves?
I do not know the answers or reasons
there is no effect from their presence here
to look over my shoulder at a chill.
This part of me reminds one of seasons
where Winter’s storms would fill one with cold fear
to notice movement near me never still.
IV. Who Remains
A dying breed of Catholic Spiritualist
to talk to dead while attending each Mass
to look over my shoulder when the Priest pass
at Church or home I am somnambulist.
In grey area of black and white film
they stand and look upon me as I grow
until each white hair on my head will show
through all these years they do not overwhelm.
These spirits prove that some of life lingers
beyond the moments that we live each day
within a darkened void over shoulder.
A small feeling between thumb and fingers
whose presence here will never go away
even when, with age, I seem much bolder.
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The realm of spirits is never still nor quiet. They are always on the move and attach themselves to those who are aware of them. Great work here, Jamie.
Thank you Phyllis. Jamie