Fade

Poetry

the sound echoes through the cathedral,

and the chamber master knows from experience

that the dead are lingering tonight, restless

once, a young woman came at nightfall,

her white nightgown torn and dirt-stained,

and she asked for a place to sleep

but the thing about ghosts is how,

once they’re let inside a doorway,

they often don’t want to leave

the girl still sits above the organ,

only disappearing when parishioners

let themselves in through the doors

other ghosts circle the cathedral,

drawn to hallowed and sacred places,

and the town teems with tales and rumors

when you let the dead into living spaces,

they will take every advantage to avoid

returning to the ether from which they came

so goes the litany of the phantom few

who want so badly to live that they thrive

upon clinging to those of flesh and blood

Originally published at https://vocal.media.