The Ghost

the ghost
of images
of visuals unperturbed
came unnoticed, murmuring
whispers of discontent
or were they noticed
paused upon, pondered
beautifully into carved epithets
before psychology gave accounts
of deep red shawls as the curse
to cry out of laughter and laugh out to cry
to reverberate without any sound

the ghost it woke without surprise
a memory far many a mile
the ghost like time
travelled across the seas
on waves undulating distress
with hope, faith and universal rile

haunted did we feel our feet cold turned
robbed massacred desolate did we feel
our breathing be heavy and pale, rooted
on ground, yet like we float with sound

the ghost it mattered most
when it flee
breaking down
into ice
into a feeble screech

must beast sleep must sleep deep!
must keep peace must patience keep!