City of Ghosts

2024 Poetry Project — #5

Photo by Jill Heyer on Unsplash

some think
there will be no rain
soon enough —
well, i don’t know about that.

i can’t see the future,
but i wonder about it
all the time,
every day.

it’s true
that i walk each day
through a city of ghosts,
the dead wandering without remorse.

when did they die?
oh, perhaps when they gave up
their dreams, their hopes,
all those aspirations
on the vine.

when did they perish?
oh, between the last war and this one —
in all the lines thereof,
in the destruction of another way of life.

zombies, i call them,
because they can’t speak
without looking at their phones
or exchanging inane things that don’t matter.

my mind’s alight,
vibrant and breathing,
but i feel as if i have to hide it
just because no one else seems to bleed in colors.