I live with
the nagging feeling
that there remains
buried within me
(not far from the surface–
like a hastily interred body,
in a dollar-store grave)
something I thought
was dead,
that wants–
nay, needs–
to come out,
not to resurrect,
but to be given a proper burial.

Whatever the identity
of this corpse,
it's critical to my healing
to meet it,
greet it,
embrace its moldy self
and send it on
to its proper resting place.

"Come out, ghost,
and show yourself!
I cry.

It hears and knows,
but is not ready.
Though it lies rotting,
dreaming of its own freedom,
it, too, believes in kindness
and fears scaring me to death.

But I am ready.
In my weakness and vulnerability
I am ready.

Text and
image © 2012 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.