SDB (January 23rd 1958 / Paris)


I don't fear ghosts,
these gentle reflections
of the dead.
They glide
beside me,
hold my hand.

I am just afraid
of the ghosts
of the living...
When they step out
of your existence.

I am scared
of the streets
they have deserted;
of the words,
the touch
they have emptied.

I shiver
lurking among
their echoes;
my ankle is sore,
I carry their chains.

The ghosts
of the living
when they are leaving you.

The ghosts of the dead?
They never
rob you.
They just withdraw
and you stay behind
with your hands

But what
the ghosts of the living
They never give back.

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Comments (3)

i enjoyed this poem i will look for others when you submit best wishes
Is this your first poem? You have great talent. Well done. Sincerely, Tan PS. Will be grateful if u can check out my work also. Written long ago when I was 17-18 years old. Tan.
This is very powerful Sylvaine...great poem! I look forward to reading more of your work. Sincerely, Mary