Blind Ghosts
The blind ghosts hunt us down by the smell of our fear and the noise our feet make running away. They pursue the sound of kicked gravel, the bump and scrape against a tree, the crackling of leaves underfoot. Would we could be as a flower rooted in soil. Wild winds bend us but don’t pull us out. On a rain-stormy day, bright orange petals remember the heat of summer. When sun shines again, we exhale a sweet content that attracts bees and butterflies to ornament the day. When we walk in silence of a flower, we hear birdsong, peepers and raindrops that strum the strings of a merry song. Everywhere flowers, blind ghosts can’t follow.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08DGKZG4L
Dare Published: July 27, 2020