Ghostwriting

 

The longings that a person feels when alive, which remain fixed in his heart, come to mind at the moment of death. ~ Jnaneshwar in Graceful Exits, How Great Beings Die 

Predawn cacophony 

struggles win this time.

In the dark, I’m grudgingly

dressed, writing through 

a thunderstorm and grumbling

intestines. So tired.

I’ve been pondering

how to die well;

I still feel her reaching out

on her frantic

deathbed, like a vicious swipe

from a bear’s claws — 

years of focused hatred

led her right to me, and finally

she made an impact.

 Oh, how my head aches.

Listen to this belly grouching.

I’m present for all of this agony,

chaotic crumbling of an

invisible ancestral pattern, 

bringing it to the light.

Even though my candle today

can barely pierce this murky 

air and the flame

is flickering, I’m holding it up.

I’m holding it high to summon

dark spirits. Show yourselves.

Dance to these

drums you’ve been beating

in me.  Even as the rising

sun reaches through the thick

cloud cover, I’m straining

to hear your muffled voices.

**

So grateful for all of the dark words today: GhostAgony, Grudging, Cacophony, Summon