Not because it’s Hallowe’en
 

If you’ve never felt it, of course it’s not

There, you’re absolutely right, there is

Nothing to worry about. The world is as

You say it is, and everything else is

Poppycock.
 

If, on the other hand, you have felt it, then

We are in a different place, a place where

Not all is known and probably never will be.
 

Bore me not with your blindness, nor your

Tiresome words of reduction and self-pity,

They have no place in the reality of which

I speak. Be gone, take your empty words

And peddle them elsewhere.
 

I am talking about something left behind

From the past, an invisible something,

A mysterious something, a presence

Perhaps not buried with the body. A

Spiritual escapee, inspired to walk the

Earth as before, but this time with the

Distinct advantage of invisibility.
 

Beware!

The undead are with us tonight,

Able to walk beside thee, make their

Presence felt, lurk silently in the dark,

Tug at your hair, pull at your arm, touch

Your cheek, hover nearby. Light or dark,

Always with you, impossible to escape

From, impossible to ignore. When the

Street is quiet and there is nothing there,

That’s the time to worry.
 

If there is goodwill, then naturally, we may

Assume there will also be ill-will. A force

Beyond our understanding ever-waiting to

Strike. Be under no illusion, such a force

Is real, and there are many who will confirm

Its existence. Where it comes from who

Knows ... a pushing force hard in your back

When in bed tells of its arrival, as too does

A relentless downward pressure when sat

In a chair perhaps in the dark, an ill-will that

Wants you out of the bed, out of the chair,

Out of the house.
 

Living shadows from another time, recent

Or distant, ghosts that will not rest, cannot

Rest, and in that spirit transport a remnant

Of their grave misfortune into our world. If

You haven’t felt them how can you know?

Disbelief isn’t enough, words don’t count,

Opinion even less so. Comment from those

Who want the world to be nothing more

Than a route to the grave are fully entitled

To their view, but on a night such as this,

Better that they keep it to themselves.

© Joseph G Dawson