Ghosts Poem by Sylvaine De Buyst

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;
frightened
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
full.

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