I Feel Them Most... Poem by moon batchelder

i feel them most
what moments there is leisure
for such thing.
when busy-ness of day is done,
and having bedded down my son,
before my weary bones can rest,
that interval - between -;
that lull so still
is filled with ghosts.

i reminisce
not meaning to give place to
such a thing.
just after days activity
has lapsed into vacuuity,
my mind not ready quite for bed
proves such the perfect scene;
their apparitions
coalesce.

i let them in
as tho i had a choice about
such things.
but haunted by them less somehow
by acquiesing to allow -
these unseen, uninvited, guests
possess a kinder mien;
against my will
i forge the sin

of sadness over loss,
the pain of losing them to death,
my brain still reeling at the cost disdains
to justify by breath.
a stain my idle time upon remains.
nor audience with god explain sufficiently.
i've gone insane!
or lost my peace of mind.
rehearsing memories is worse than
being left behind.