Naked ghosts fill this house
they play in the swampy lands outside
Halfway from Wilmingshire
I trek along
as vehicles race past, they get tangled in my hair.
I scratch my roots
shake hands with my ancestors for inspiration
And those naked ghosts tease with soft ‘hellos’
emerging from and eroding into the crispy air
I breathe in, holding back foolish, unnecessary tears
Remembering dragons dance in the corn fields
We were dragons in the corn fields.
Kings and Queens we were, crowns yet to have been bestowed
Our ancestors must’ve known
refusing to fight as they dirtied their clothes
The children they would never hold must’ve kissed the dragons in those corn fields
and ate their scales for strength.
Tis a trivial notion that licks my mind
as I lay among the naked ghosts here
Colors throw past again and again
Diving over a ledge whose fall I can’t witness
How I desperately want to peek over, but she playfully rejects my advances
And my covers vanish
her insides cling to the vacuus
Mea dragon trespasses
into the fields our ancestors knew
time accommodating our yes
For we rule time
at this moment.
I lay with naked ghosts.
They toy with me en route
Forever joyous during the journey
Comforting frustration makes me boyishly cheerful
alas they depart
Cascading through bounty, they abandon me here
Over the clouds
behind the dawn
betwixt the flora
into the Sun!
And a glorious notion fills my mind
The Ghosts have been the same always
the whole time
it is I who morphs.
And I wave goodbye
until I am worthy once more.
I push forward, towards Innisfree
And my youth runs through the corn fields
free for a moment’s grace.