Haunting

Text and Images by Sandy Minďaš

I’m a ghost

haunting this house.

Or am I the house?

Haunted by ghosts?

Am I both?

I’m walking these rooms,

different, it’s past long gone.

Yet they speak to me

in a dead language.

I haunt their ghosts

I shiver,

not from cold.

There is a memory

forgotten in these walls.

I want to remember.

Places change, but the ghosts stay the same.

I go from room to another,

I go from place to another.

I haunt them

desperately trying to find what’s no longer here.

I’m singing the song we liked,

I’m laughing at a joke you once said,

I’m looking at the fields we loved,

I’m crying over the photos you took.

I’m haunting your ghost.

I am no ghost,

ghosts cannot feel pain.

And I am no house,

houses cannot feel love.

I feel both.

I’m still walking this world,

a human making metaphors

for his grieving heart.

A human writing poems

for people who cannot read them.