by Rochelle Del Borrello
Do you remember the night of summer lightning?
when the seasons changed
thundering humidity clashing upon itself
to create thick droplets of rain
we sat under the umbrella stars
under the talking sky
we spoke of faith and faithlessness
as the world shifted around us
we dreamed of what could be
and took a moment with us
the restless nature of the storm
we did not worry about the future
we were happy to have our passion
the rain is cleansing the moment before winter.
Love is still here for you
as I light a candle
in front
of your photo
I remember how your grandson and I
smothered you with hugs and kisses
the last time we said goodbye
Our love for you remains
here suspended in the air
you are intertwined in these
three words.
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.
