I act like I never knew them;

the old ghosts,

the revenants.

They played a part,

no small review,

but I rejected their aplomb.


Not that ghosts are out of fashion,

nor do the old, jangling chains distract,

but instead I am immune now

to the temptations

of my past.

I just didn’t want to know.


Looking back takes so much more


than looking forward.

While I come from a very stout constitution,

I found myself weary

of being turned half around

always looking over my shoulder.


The ghosts still clang and wail

and they occasionally knock over a lamp,

or open a door,

but I just pick up the lamp

and close the door

and go on about my life.


I don’t ignore my past,

but I refuse to be bound my it.

These ghosts are mine

and I love them,

but they do not keep me.


One of the saddest facts of life,

is that the further I progress

down this path;

there will be new ghosts.

More and more,

until I join them



So I don’t feel bad

about not being with them

while I’m alive.

One day,

I will have no choice.



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