365 Poems/49 Chasing Spirits (Rough First Draft)

Chasing Spirits

An actor in a twenty minute film

played a dying man.

He mimicked the breathing

and slight movements

of my Grandfather.

 

Since his passing, my soul

has grown weaker.

The urge to sleep for

whole seasons amongst rocks

and rotting timber has increased.

 

For me, there was always doubt

that the time would come when

he would leave us.

 

I never properly steeled myself

for the inevitable. I sat, quietly

watching him, in disbelief

that he would never stand again.

 

Those first few days after his death,

I was fumbling and feeble.

 

The ground is now freezing hard

with Siberian cold, and I still gasp,

break down, though I know

following this sadness is as useless

as chasing spirits.

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