In the immediate space in which I find myself, ghosts abound.
In the park where children play, you can hear the echoes from days passed.


In the empty spaces where I once sat, spoke, dreamed and loved…the voices and the images, blurred but easily identifiable, poke and prod me, the pricking of my emotions. the blood will dry and scabs will form, but the scars will remind us from time to time.

It’s a victorious sensation walking, limping or crawling from the enemy who hides it’s jealousy, regrets and anger with a wall of false love.

But we walk, limp or crawl away knowing we will never again permit the knives, blades or explosions destroy us anymore.

The only losers are the ones who continue to be wounded by the arrows cast by the inferior.
I hear the children, I hear lost loves and the departed calling out…

You see it in the eyes of the subway riders early in the morning. Dressed in the costumes dictated by society. The ones who once refused to confirm, the ones who swore to never…

Life and time weaken the ones who yearn for the lost strength and inspiration as they sit behind desks or walk door to door. Teaspoons of humiliation disguised as coffee.

In the surroundings I can sense the undignified walking, limping and crawling. Scars upon them disguised by dress shirts and ties.

The measurement of victory has certainly been decreased as the years have passed. We smile in the mirror to try and lighten our mood. The stranger looking back simply nods in disappointment. Never the less we keep on smiling.

Love is the antidote for the bites from the snakes. Love is a child’s laugh, a sunrise bleeding on the ocean, the autumn leaves and the winter snow, to springs rebirth. An embrace, touch of a hand or the sweet taste of her lips.

Still the ghosts plead with us to stand tall and to be true. It’s those voices which keep us moving forward, smiling in the mirror and braving the day.