Monday, April 12, 2010

Ghost

An old poem...but it still says so much.

Ghost

Hug the air above a candle’s flitting flame
And hold the hand of the shadow it throws;
Feel the presence of whom you love most,
The one who loves most to be yours,
Next to your heart, his heart speaking soft,
As though he were pressed to your breast.
Look into a mirror and see his clouded eyes,
Which once gazed unblinking in yours:
Both reflections clear enough to show your smile,
But one made hollow by the depthless glass.
Hear a whisper in an unfelt wind,
And think that his voice still remains,
Echoes speaking when there’s nothing left to say,
Forever speaking what he always tried to say.
Know he’s there although he wanders far from home,
A haunted ghost who walks the world without a grave.


Image credit: Matt Luttrell, from Wikimedia Commons, under a Creative Commons License.