What we worry about most brings
a dust of doves rising in a wind of
startled whirl. Fat fed flocks
for lingering over time,
there is mass confusion
in that obese rattling launch,
our agitated thoughts imitating
their flurried frightened flight.
That sudden motion brings seas,
oceans of stir and swell, a heave
of emotion, the last drowning first,
and with a mountainous wake
that would take out all the rest,
they roll so high above us
we can’t see the top.
Land us now. Now come down.
We rest. Stem the tide and stand
steadfast against the deluge
that is now past. Look around.
See how we have sidestepped
all the murderers of our families
haunting about us,
their hard spells cast now in vain,
substantial ghosts that lived to hurt
and beat fear into our unhealed hearts,
their one desire
to kill us too, this
we now know and understand,
and by that act
they are flown and gone.
This is how our fears will end.
We counter the confusion
of our past lives, jumbled memories
are now stilled with the calm comfort,
simply found in making love
like happy children will,
who were lost are now reborn,
finding all our family and home
all our long daunting dreads
settled into dust.
* * * * *
The word for today is
Use ghosts in a piece or writing, or to trigger a piece of writing, and then leave that piece as a comment below. I would love to read what you write. Happy Pōʻalua/Tuesday : )