A revised earlier poem, maybe apt for today.
All Hallows Eve
As the church clock strikes the midnight hour,
the children by now have long gone home,
their costumes carefully folded and put away,
Halloween now is passing to the mournful day.
In the graveyard unquiet spirits now bestir,
memories that have been retained in bones,
this being the time they arise from the earth,
leaching dead emotions from hearts of stone.
Emerging ephemeral into the cold night air,
grey as negatives no longer printed in lives,
with no one there to see they cannot be
corporeal so there’s nothing left to shrive.
Just memories of those who were once alive,
having now passed while leaving behind,
dreams and portents dissolving in time:
fading imprints left in still faithful minds.
Meanwhile, the children are lying asleep,
safe now, tucked up in bed as angel wings
cover and protect their rest, for as was said
by the wise man: ‘let the dead bury the dead’.
© D G Moody 2025
(Image courtesy of Neil Marsham from Wikimedia)
Poetry by D G Moody
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Written on 2025-10-31 at 17:07
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