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
effort
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
forever.
So I don’t feel bad
about not being with them
while I’m alive.
One day,
I will have no choice.
-HG
