Ghostly Hands

Inspired by a dream

I walked to the sacred shrine
lit a candle there for you

 

Three other spirits
were shining brightly
upon the shelf

 

I wonder who
had called them here

 

While I waited
for the smoke
to call your name
I spoke to one
who lingerered
near the flame

 

Her voice was soft
she whispered low
I saw blue eyes
dark hair

 

She took my hand
we travelled far
in misty lands

 

To a cave
entered
descended
found
a pile of bones

 

She held a skull
I reached down
touched
bone fingers

 

Skeleton trembled
bones flying around
formed a human shape

 

On my left
ghostly hand in mine

 

On my right
bony fingers gripped
me tight

 

We three
formed a circle
ghostly chant
flesh returned to bones
spirit returned to flesh

 

A woman stood
holding my hands
long black hair
blue eyes

 

No words were said
she smiled

 

Again I stood
before the altar
three candles burning now

 

She was there beside me
smiling still
breathing
waiting
watching the flames

Reviews

[emmajoy]

History in a dream and more than plausible if you want it to be. When we have a dream it returns to whence it came .. perhaps you've had your dream in a different time but just not recognised it. This is beautiful because the bare bones have re-built either about a person or an event .. there's reality here, if you look

Beautiful writing .. gently explanatory, and without drama.

[poetry-kiddo alienbaba]

will you never come back?

[shultzfeather]

storey in the words that include the reader

I guess, you have such a talent to write tales like this. Such a beautiful piece, with a several meanings to think of... I love it!

[Chris]

"Blessed Be"

[Tenebrousoul]

Very moving. I really loved this.

[Robin]

the things one sees on their journey ..

[Revolutionary]

I felt like I was in the woods among a the Wica congregation.I could see the high priestess as she held hands with the three witches from the past.This has images still moving through my mind

[Ruth]

This is so spiritually awakening DD, love..your work possess something sacred I can only dream to reach...this is glorious xoxo

[kmartell]

in my family we are instructed by the grandmother to light a candle for my father, when we went to church, this reminded me of that. "waiting for the smoke...to call your name" bones are bones of real people and ghosts are ghosts of real people. keep on watching the flames.

[Emily B]

my dream was a little different, that's the way journeys are sometimes

lovely poem