There are ghosts inside of you...Not just your own,
but the ghosts of a hundred thousand years
all piled inside.
Sometimes they are neat,
like a Russian Doll,
a stack of dishes.
They sit respectfully in your veins,
observing from the back seat,
reading over your shoulder,
ignoring their own wishes.
But sometimes they are discontent—
twisted and lumpy like laundry.
They clamor and shout,
almost bursting out of you,
pushing your skin and your bones,
banging on your cell walls,
begging for their lives back.
Begging to speak
to feel
to breathe
That is when you tell them the secret:
That you're a ghost, too.That you're all ghosts, really,
in the eyes of time.
There is no forward or back
no beginning or end.
Only a multitude.
But you also tell them the truth:
that you are Scrooge,
the ghost of Christmas Present.
You hold the power
You are the one that speaks,
that feels,
that breaths.
You represent your current time
just as much as you do
the hundred thousand ghosts
alive inside of you.
So you say to them,
"I am the host of a hundred thousand spirits—
echoes of times long past, and people long dead.
I know sometimes you struggle,
and I know sometimes you weep,
but remember that I am a part of you,
just as you are a part of me.
Back when you were the ghost of your present,
just as I am now,
I was there, somewhere in the crowd—
though you hadn't met me yet.
And one day, I will join you, a ghost of today,
just as you are a ghost of yesterday.
And together we will watch
as the ghost of tomorrow forms."
YOU ARE READING
Counting Down the Days
PoetryIt is the summer before I leave for college, and I am staring into the empty abyss before me, wondering what to do with my life. In this collection, I am challenging myself to write something every day (now adjusted to every 2-3 days). I may write p...