Ghosts There Are... Poem by Carol Fleming Klein

walking through our night.
Chill I feel their breath
against my cheek.

When you draw near
I hear rustles in the
mist of moonlight
-shadows drifting
between
as almost I touch you.

Where they pass
through
a cold wall
stops
my reaching finger tips.

You on one side
I on the other
with this living moving space
between us.

Frozen I stand
rooted in the moonlight
a haunted moonlight
echoing with voices
of the past
dipping and drifting
in the wind.

Please help me
make their peace
-then free
I can reach out to you
and meet answering freedom
in your eyes.