Among The Dead Poem by Amy Phillip

Among the dead I live and breathe; among them I sleep and dream of those who left and those who are near, hiding behind shadow- ghosts of my past and theirs. Among those darkened images, their blurry faces and their endless, restless breaths, I rest, knowing that the sounds of footsteps and the small echoing coughs from behind my ears, will escort me, follow me along paths of virtual solitude, of noise that will not cease.
Behind closed doors, in room filled with someone’s stories, some other’s memories, of tales that were told and words lost in hollows, I now walk, step inside once used spaces, and now, nothing but vague recollections of the dead and mine. And there, where not only do I sense but see the dead as well, I lay impatiently, drawing them closer, wanting to learn and understand the circumstances that brought me within them, and them within me.