Letter to a Ghost
Had I not dreamed your death, I would have praised this day.
Your name rests in a wooden box on a desk
in a room far away and twice as old as we were then.
My penance in this phase: to continue.
I gather words close and refrain from admissions.
The clock on the wall seldom chimes,
like one whose vows circumvent convenience, or
a shade allowing the barest sliver of light
through the window. That tock preceding
a long silence. Snow blanketing the mounded earth.
Your scent never lingers past sleep, where you remain.
At last I no longer covet those sheets you’ve shared.
Your name rests in a box. I gather words and refrain.
“Letter to a Ghost” last appeared herein 2017.
O at the Edges 
‘had I not dreamt your death’ is a great opening…
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Thanks very much!
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Powerful…
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Thank you.
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Most welcome.
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Reblogged this on Becoming is Superior to Being and commented:
This poem is one I felt a need to share even though it may be in a box on a desk.
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Thanks for reblogging, Kenne. I believe the poem has escaped the box…
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Haunting … especially drawn to “far away and twice as old as we were then. / My penance in this phase: to continue.” Though sad to have lost someone worth this anguish, even sadder to punish yourself for “continuing”. Your continuance enables ghost continuance through your words. Thank you for bringing these words/lines out of the box to share.
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Though I wrote this four or five years ago, it rings truer today.
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Intriguing to stumble on something written a ways back and find it immediately relevant NOW … I think we are often ahead of the times and just don’t know it! I also suspect that NOW pushes aside some of THEN’s thinking/feeling … no way to actually compare perspectives from two distinct points in time. Even if written down!
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The impetus may have changed, but the implications, the history, remain. It’s strange how that works.
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A powerful piece ❤️
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Thanks very much, Paula.
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