What does it feel like
To be a ghost shunned;
A soul un-grieved,
Un-missed and unforgiven?
In the hovering bowels
Of mysticism where the
Cynics hang their hats,
She waits to be
Acknowledged.
In these times there
Is a satisfaction in this
Inter-dimensional reaction;
When spirit feels the wishing
Just like we did
When we were little
And hurting.
“You are undeserving.”
I see her there
Weeping. She is
Repeating all of the
Mistakes that
Make her ache, but
You see, it’s
Not up up to me to
Provide relief.
There are grave
Consequences for
Actions, and sometimes
They get passed on
To the next
Generation.
Mistakes can’t be erased.
Absolution is a
Figment of your
Imagination, so I say
Proceed on with caution.
Meanwhile, she
Hangs from the eave,
Hovering,
Hoping to be
Seen by me, and I
Wince inwardly.
I remind myself that
She is the reason
I have moments of freezing
Dead in my skin and
How hard I have
Had to fight to win,
So no, without emotion, I
Leave her restless
In eternal hoping.
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