Part One
It wasn’t the fact that it was at night
That made me nervous....No,
It was the shadows formed by the light.
It wasn’t the sounds that made my skin, crawl
Though, that first creaking of the gate clanging shut
Did make me jump, and I must admit it made my heart skip a beat.
It wasn’t the chill in the air as we waited there like prisoners of old,
Though it did make me feel, how those poor souls felt
Being shut behind that Iron Gate, forgotten
To the outside world, and missed by just those they loved.
No, it was more the oral stories told by our guide there that night,
All dressed up like our guard, his voice speaking of chilling tales
The stories of the innocent woman and two children
Hanged by the neck until Death.
And something else... Made me
Feel strange my………Sh.. Shadow wasn’t quite, right?
You see…. It wasn’t my rounded self
Showing up on that convict brick wall that night,
Only half of me showed ….. The rest was a light ….
A ghost of innocence was dancing, the last moments of life….
.A spirit of a woman, her name Ellen Thompson still rings with sorrow.
At first, I put it down to my overactive mind…….just seeing things again
Or just some trick of invisible paint…. Until the lady next to me asked
"Are you ALRIGHT?"
This is what made me think twice....And makes me check my shadow still to see
If it is whole, and only me and nothing else......FOLLOWING ME......
No .......Not even this made me speak out that night.
BINABASA MO ANG
"Ghosts Talk"
PoetryThis is a combination of poem, image and music. It involves a Controversial subject that is current today in my own country. Aboriginal Deaths in Custody. Here I have touched on this subject without saying anything outright, and I hope that I haven'...
