a haunted poem...

This Ghost Insane
~ a poem by Joseph Beekman ~

I came upon,

a graveyard at dawn.

A new world?

Perhaps….

A lonely apparition approached,

gazed on us,

and gasped

Muttering a bloodshot word,

I asked, “What struck fear,

into one so lifeless and clear?”

It sat upon a stone,

sighed and groaned…

“You’re mistaken, you see…

I’m full of life and free!

Free to wander and probe,

alive to surprise and to know!

But you - you’re dead,

draped in flesh you’ll shed.

That wretched shrine that traps your soul,

that drains your dream,

chews it whole!

The thing I’m not,

but what within:

A released pocket of life -

A fleshless hymn!”

I sat amazed by one so crazed!

This ghost insane -

Believing it free,

undaunted by pain!

“Tell me spirit…

how can this be?

I, like you, will die -

No longer wild, no longer free…

But to travel back to the garden womb -

A finality to existence - ”

“ - Only to your flesh,

the spirit’s tomb!” roared the ghost.

“Yes, I was in your state of thought,

avoiding the dark reminders

of which way I’ll rot!

Yet, you will see -

Because like I was you,

you’ll be like me!

You’re soul will fly,

when the body does die…

Then you’ll be born -

Those, the dead you are now,

will remember and mourn!”

The spirit shifted its place -

Laughed at my silence,

The frown on my face…

“I was surprised to see,” the ghost resumed,

“the dead wandering this dawn -

So unaware of the thousands that await,

after the flesh is gone!”

I had to speak -

I had to express,

What haunts I’ve seen,

so like this guest…

“Oh, I’ve seen many of your kind!

Never without a tale,

riddle, or rhyme…

You’re trapped here by the urge to live -

Always struggling to forgive.

To find a reason for your demise -

A true horror, shock, and surprise!

Floating the earth,

from which came your birth -

A spirit dweller in the gardens;

The gardens of graveyard song…

Poking the molds of darkness,

seeking an answer to why you were wronged…

Am I right?”

The ghost sat silent in ponder -

Though I thought it wanting to wander.

Finally it spoke -

It’s voice a creak and a croak:

“One day you will see,

if you spoke the truth,

Or truly was I free!”

And spying a breeze arriving our way,

it took to leave -

Darkness falling,

to bury the light of day.

Copyright: Joseph Beekman, 1997

*first published at Dawn Hagan's Haunted Halloween Bash, October 3rd/2011 at:
http://dawn-hagan.blogspot.com/2011/10/haunted-halloween-bash-day-3-guest-post.html