The Haunting

Haunted by voices, the only child sees
shadows pass by. When he closes
his eyes, he can still see the demons
haunting him. Noise fills the still air.
Haunted by those who won’t leave,
he stays up all night. One night,
the only child hears his name being called.
Afraid and awake, he walks toward
the voice calling his name. He gets
close enough to see a ballpoint pen
lodged between a blank journal.
The only child picks up the pen, filling
up the blank pages. He writes, “I’m not
real” over and over. The voices stop,
and the shadows disappear. The only
child closes the journal, then the curtains
are thrown open. The shining light
illuminates his transparent face.
The light shines right through.
Surrounded by life, the only child sees
his future then jumps into the past. It felt
so real for him. He almost forgot, he was
a lurking shadow, once alive and well.
The only child visits the blank journal
now and again to encounter memories
once made, remembered, and forgot.

Memento

Today will be just another
day. In a few days, today
will be the past: a shadow
once cast. Remnants
seem to last and remain
the same like a flame
that burns away dark
times. Every single life
is chalk-full of moments
and mementos: highs
and lows: days and nights:
ghouls, goblins, and ghosts.
Thus, today I will be
able to see memories
that have never left me.
Wherever I decide to go,
mementos will remind
me of who I was and who
I strive to be. Really,
they seem to set me free.

Memory Lane

Today, the car is in cruise control.
I take it slow and go with the flow.
Today, I take a ride down Memory
Lane. I revisit past pain and travel
through time frames: different days.
I unravel. I tear up gravel to navigate
an unknown fate. I carry weight;
I talk to my shadows: old versions
of myself. Sometimes, I ask them
for help – words of advice. Miles
into Memory Lane, I face pain
and embrace joy all the same.
I see old friends of mine the way
they were before I last saw them.
I notice houses I used to live in;
I recognize yards I used to play in.
I begin to see places I have been.
Today, I met with Father Time
and rode down Memory Lane
before any new memories came.



The Same Shadow

I keep seeing the same
shadow. It follows me
wherever I go. I know
this shadow can grow
when lights turn low.
My fear seems to flow,
and paranoia ensues.
With every step, I look
to my right – my left,
and I feel the shadow
around me. Can it be
mine? Can it be me
from another life? Is it
the same shadow I see
in my mind?
Anyway,
I walk away: leaving
shadows in my wake as
I swim across life’s lake.

The Escape Artist

I slide through a window.
Dropping two stories to
the ground. I run around
trying to find a place
to escape. I am gone;
I am free from the past
and the shadow it casts.
I run down the street
with the toughest feet.
Barefoot and confused:
the moon is my muse.
I was free – a simple sign
To escape again. I escape
to find the perfect rhyme –
words that define my life.