Ghosts

 

My home is filled with ghosts

it is a haunted house.

Like those eerie places

where holocausts have occurred

covered in a thick layer of genocidal misery

from violent acts that have torn souls 

away from this world.

The spirits and bad energy linger in the air

making me uneasy

giving me goosebumps

and the strange sensation

someone is trying to whisper something to me

but I cannot make out the words.

 

Memories flash in my mind as I am where my childhood was played out.

 

Each step brings me back to the memories and people who will never return.

 

For one moment and I am a child.

 

I wish I had been kinder, taken more time to appreciate them.

I turn to look for those beautiful souls, and they are gone 

like that sinking feeling when a once vibrant house is now still

the soul is abscent.

 

I'm always more and more alone as family and friends disappear.

 

One moment they are here, I can touch them, I feel them,

talk to them, bask in their company, have their advice

and support.

Their laughter and tears are my music.

 

Then there is silence, and the memories haunt me reminding me they are gone,

my home is filled with ghosts.


Death's garden

 

The idea came to commemorate my dearest ancestors

by planting them a garden.

 

Lavander sprigs for stillborn Estella.

 

Delicate violets from Nonna’s garden.

 

An all-enveloping ivy that covers and embraces

everything for Nonno.

 

Daddy would be an aubergine flower as that's

what he left for us in his garden.

 

Mum will be an exotic caper flower after she is gone.

 

I will plant them on my skin,

they will slowly grow up my arm

and cover my body in death's garden.

 

Added to with every loss

I choose a new plant to sow

for my family and friends

and add to the artwork

with each ghost.


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