Lost Souls Poem by Gillian Commerford

Lost souls inhabit
the spaces in between
I feel their weight
upon my heart
They tell me of lives
ill-lived
cut-short
suffered
wasted
They whisper words I almost hear
They tell of ghettos
gutters
a grinding-down.
I see the blood behind their eyes
the scars upon their bones
Their graves are gone
to grassy parks
to houses for the poor-
No one remembers
we walk serenely
on their gravestones
admire their memorabilia
in museums
and antique stores-
How cruel
how callous
how uncaring
seem we to them
who once, like us, were living.