Samhain Poem
They call it Halloween in the shops
The time has come for the past to rattle
like so many ancient skeletons,
for the dead to walk the streets of our souls
like children and beggars and grifters.
This is the time to greet long gone heroes
on the dimly lit stage of our memories,
the founders of our treasured institutions,
the dead who died in a fight for freedom,
and the simple ghosts of those who loved us.
The time has come to accost the vampires,
the villains who tried to steal
the blood of us, the truth of us,
who we are in our best moments,
staring at us hypnotically from the pages of history,
like so many handsome, austere Lugosis.
Tonight, the hour will come
to rekindle the flame
of knowing our dependance on the Earth,
our Mother and our Queen.
Today is the day to celebrate
where we have been
and to plan to strengthen what we have
while it still remains.
We can stand in the cemetery
of our past, of the builders of us,
the garden in which we all grow,
and bless those legendary dead,
thankful that we have the shoulders
of these giants upon which to stand.
