Song of the Dead

I have learned
to carry my ghosts
with reverence
slip them gently
into my coat pockets
cradle them close
to carotid pulse
these most loyal
of my companions
lull to the steady beat
of my survivor’s heart
they are with me
always
unseen but
not unfelt
borrowing touches through
my fingertips
stolen glances
through my eyes
my ears filled with
whispered secrets of
the dead
haunting and
haunted still

© 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

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