Poem: Psychopomp

A little bit of poetry to get into the Halloween spirit (also to break in the new social media links, but mostly the Halloween thing). Hope you enjoy it.

 

Psychopomp

Look at me. This phantom that I am,

Clinging immaterial to this old forgotten house.

No one lives here any more.

No one has,

For a long, long time.

 

The haunting may have something to do with that.

 

Had I forgotten?

Neglected to inform myself of my demise?

Ignored the sight of my own corpse

Dragged away

Like some nameless soldier

Bled by a stray arrow?

Did I truly think that that was living?

No.

I couldn’t have.

Or else I’d have done something about it.

It’s why it came as no surprise.

 

So alone at first,

Once all was taken, dragging after my corpse.

I should have known once I was not.

When other phantoms lingered past my sight,

When Devils asked politely for acquaintance,

When Good Folk begged I join their sylvan dances,

When Wild Hunts led by Wotan mighty passed above,

And children spoke of me in playful fear,

I chuckled and thought I must be mad as well as breathing.

Such things don’t appear to living men!

 

Did I notice as this house grew ever older without resident?

Perhaps I did not care.

I passed though crumbled doorways as a wisp of air and moonlight

As though they still stood open.

 

I always knew.

I told myself and did not believe it.

Nor did I believe my own denial.

It’s why I only ever planned to cry out,

And when I did, was not surprised

To be met with hollowness.

 

It was a comfort, really.

To find it was only my own fault.

 

I see it now.

I had expected warmth and welcoming.

Afterlife is overrated.

I’ve yet to know What Comes Next.

Heaven? Nothing? Life Again?

What do I care?

At least it’s someplace different.

At least I had the mind to free myself.

That’s all anyone can claim.

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