Father's Soul

father's soul comes again
i am cold
to his hug, this sickness
of ghosts
embracing us, the living,

questions and images
mixing on a night
of horror,

always, the question is:
what for, dad? what for?

leave us, we know how to
live our lives,
stay in the land of the dead
and be rested,

for now is our time to confront
our own ghosts,
equipped by your quotes
we think we know the routes.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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