Click here to hear the poet read his words:
ghosts
in the darkness they come
the ghosts of my accusers
created from the anger
or resentment
of those who still live
who point fingers
and hurl accusations
of heinous crimes
many of which
I admit
I am guilty of
there are other ghosts
of those now dead
who show more benevolence
even forgiveness
of my innumerable faults
a former lover
who departed many years ago
far too young
who bears no grudge
for my imperfections
and a friend
a lady who wanted more than I could give
taken just last year
by the virus
which swept the earth
calls me with affection
mon sale gosse
my little rascal
but my most frequent visitor
is my mother
who died all those years ago
but has never left me
she says nothing
simply enfolds me
as always
in her love
Sound Bite Fiction 
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Just beautiful, touches deeply.
The angry ghosts of the living who visit us because we have been human and imperfect, and because they still are too.
And those no longer here, who bring understanding and forgiveness..
Then the mother-love that knows us inside out and… ‘simply enfolds me as always in her love’
So delicately expressed.
And what a gorgeous photo.
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Thanks, Jenne, I wonder if it is just my imagination that the dead treat us more kindly?
The photo is fabulous, is it not, especially as it is about 80 years old!
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Poignant. Beautiful….
‘but my most frequent visitor
is my mother
who died all those years ago
but has never left me
she says nothing
simply enfolds me
as always
in her love’
Wow…absolutely moved by those words.
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Very happy that the words touched you, Katrin, I guess that our mothers are always deep in our hearts.
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Haunting thoughts. Some fade. Some recur from time to time.
Some thankfully remain.
On our blog we hope to discover
A comment from a sister or brother
Some nice words and not the other
Or someone will be running for cover 😉
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Thank you for the thoughtful comment, dear Lady, and for the wee poem!
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I think you’ve had more than your fair share of my wee poems. 😉
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When folk have been friends for 100 years or so, who’s to say what’s a fair share, my lady?
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Do you remember the song ‘Carry Me Back to Belle Grove Plantation’?
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And I have a ForgetMeNot scrapbook of all those 100 years and the responses…
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