Evocation #53 Haunts

Haunts

Once people spoke of ghosts,

Haunting places, repeating stories.

We had a home here together.

Such challenges we faced, 

such joys and disappointments.

I meet with faces, 

sporting sympathetic eyes, 

using softer voices than I recall.

As I walk the streets and meet in our places

I hear the references to past. 

The words are largely of my part in the stories,

But they are not the words I long to hear.

The stories, mostly unknown, untold, forgotten? – 

are the stories of your presence and power.

You have become a statue, 

on which perch pigeons and doves, 

more likely to recollect 

your breathing and your movement.

You walked and ate and stumbled, 

bantering life in words 

as you held the souls of others up.

I imagine your left hand cradling 

the truths of the vulnerable, 

as your right hand curled toward your core, 

keeping the connection 

between freedom and vulnerability.

I am still haunted by your abiding power, 

offering inspiration to those 

who would now pay homage to your memory.

Their devotion to you is real 

and I observe it and wonder 

what their memories mean to me?

I grieve that you suffered so greatly.

With broken body and daily confrontation of trama

you embraced life with such fierceness and devotion.

I sit in rooms with people who knew you 

and see you haunt them… 

still challenging them – 

I hear your banter when they speak or sit in groups.

I keep seeing how you see. 

I keep hearing how you hear.

I keep speaking with your words.

I feel your presence, continuing to haunt 

each moment.

© A A Koh-Butler, 2020