Poetry ~ Voices

she began to worry about the voices
they were no longer the familiar voices,
the voices in her head
these voices were distant, but within the
walls of the old home
she climbed the wooden stairs to the
second floor loft
the voices were louder
and seemed to emanate from
behind the closed door of the

second floor bedroom
slowly, she opened the bedroom door
darkness
a flip of the light switch
produced no light
darkness and laughter
louder and louder
the voices laughed
the last sound she heard
was the door slamming behind her

Poetry ~ Feeding our Ghosts

feeding our ghosts

The ancestors have arrived! Best stoke the pit!
Smoke billows from the beast ~ an offering heaven sent

The ritual has begun, the feast of ancestral ghosts
The bounty of the harvest stews as elders prepare the roast

Honoring our ancestors keeps their memory alive
Allowing the veil to open from this world to the other side

Ritual and tradition bind generations to their core
So feed your ghosts, make a toast ~ rekindle your family lore

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