It is Samhain, the night when the worlds
of the dead and the living merge.
I am alone and afraid.
It is close to midnight now.
I miss my lover.
Not six months dead,
my soulmate, who promised to stay by me forever.
left me and I am alone.
I stand at the window, looking out over the fields,
What light there is from the full moon is hidden by clouds.
The Irish countryside is muted, shadowed.
The wind sighs and moans and sobs, echoing the sounds of my soul.
The old house creaks and settles.
It is drafty; I feel the cold wind touch me.
It is the time of year and night when spirits are about.
My people have always known this.
This is the time of the Banshee; the night of specters.
The air is suddenly cold; sharp and strange.
It causes a shiver to run down my spine
and I tremble.
I close my eyes in despair.
My lover is gone from me and will not come again.
Of a sudden, I feel the ghostly touch of a hand upon my shoulder
It is cold, but warms to my skin.
A breath upon my neck,
a murmur in my ear cause me to start and turn around.
There is no one.
I am alone.
Then, a whisper.
Did I hear that?
A soft brush of warm air across my cheek causes
the hairs at the back of my neck to rise.
I am being touched, oh so gently.
I can feel hands upon my body, gently caressing me,
and I respond.
How could I not?
I recognize the touch.
I lean into it, hungrily, greedily.
I remember this touch so well.
It brings me up, towering, trembling to the brink
and I shudder, quivering.
my breath coming in deep gasps,
my heart beating so hard I think it must burst asunder.
I am consumed, as by a fire, burning hot and true.
I am complete. Sated. Fulfilled.
The last thing I hear is that sweet voice.
I will be with you always.
It is morning.
I am still alone, yet I am not.
Did it happen?
I will only say that I feel
a clarity that is new.
I am content
for I have loved and have been
and will forever more be loved.
I will not be afraid.
© Ellie Maziekien
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