Ouija

source

When I was a child

The line between doubt and belief

was permeable

a meandering current in a stream

between reality and imagination

How I loved to cross that portal,

to lift the veil of certainty

that disguises the world of possibility

We had a ritual:

Winter was best

as dark came early,

before we had to go home for dinner

Sit in a circle

with the board in the middle,

each of our hands resting ever so lightly

on the indicator

Wait

At first we thought it a trick

But we pinky swore it was not

The spirit was speaking

We were the conduit

Soon, the game became unnecessary;

We just held a pencil

and it spoke to us

in smoky, graphite

Over time

amorphous scribbles became

differentiated

Scenes of destruction, fire, slaughter

emerged from our own hands

without our intent

Our feast of fun

became fear, force-fed

I made the decision

to sacrifice the board

and, along with it, the drawings

Sealed in a trash bag to be carried away

with the week's junk mail

and coffee grinds

Belief and doubt battle to this day

Childhood fantasy or

something wicked narrowly avoided

Belief usually wins out.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Get Listed for October
and It's Ma Thing

Never Forget

source

It never really goes away, does it?

Some mornings I wake up and forget

for a little while

But sooner or later

the skipped heartbeat comes

and with it, the realization

that nothing has changed.

Constant companion

never invited but

arrived with suitcases nonetheless

establishing squatter's rights in the bloodstream.

We lie down at night;

it is the space between us.

We hold hands in the sunlight;

it is the shadow overhead.

We float in the ocean;

it is the undertow that pulls us out to sea.

We are never alone now

It is with us always,

lurking like a lie,

waiting to come crashing down

Crushing

us.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Sunday Mini Challenge, Claribel Alegria