HALLOWEEN 01

 HALLOWEEN 

By Richard Banks 

Cold stirring in the ground below,

the yearly urge to rise and go,

 

to live again from dusk to dawn

and see the folk who once did mourn.

 

But little is that once there was.

Each change does add to sense of loss.

 

But in the churchyard all’s the same,

the ancient church, it’s weather vein,

 

the old yew tree, the heaped-up ground,

some markers stayed up, and some fell down.

 

But through the lychgate into town

the march of time is too oft’ found.

 

The shops in High Street once well known

are often gone or newly owned

 

by those who trade in strange new wares

or nail paint, tattoo, fashion hair.

 

Much has changed but people more.

The son who was is man by law.

 

And widowed wife is now new wed

and shares once more a double bed.

 

Brief holiday, this night is not

and anger flares in minds half rot.

 

To get back at the world that is

becomes their all consuming wish.

 

So haunting starts, the midnight game

of those despaired and racked by pain.

 

What good it does is none at all

for frightened folk or frenzied ghoul.

 

To make things worse black witches come

on broomstick steeds and far from dumb

 

recite foul spells that curse and blight

until the dawn when day brings light

 

and in the twilight off they go

as raised-up dead retreat in woe.

 

Back to churchyard there to spoil

to feed the worms beneath the soil.

 

Never again! they all do cry

will I return to life earth high.

 

But all do know that those once been

must always answer Halloween.

 

© Richard Banks