The Ghost Caressing My Face

Startled by
a ghost caressing
my face when

I do not believe in
ghosts, so I’m not sure
how to explain this

to my senses beyond this:
I saw a wavering film in the room,
and it had a hand upon my cheek

before it disappeared,
so I will call it a ghost until 
I think of a better phrase

for the phenomenon,
just as I do not believe
in fate or luck but still

cross my fingers
and close my eyes 
when I’m watching 

a baseball game or
the television news. 
After all, it may be

that I’ve got it all wrong
and the stars do influence
human events, maybe

the stone I carry
in my medicine bag
means more than just tradition,

maybe prophecies come true
all over the place and I
have gone too far away

from the place where wonder
and awe work true spells,
and sacred magic 

is more than a trick or two
to keep a terrified mind
from screaming — 

so come on, ghost,
caress my face,

calm me, I don’t care tonight

if you are demon or angel
or something utterly else
we haven’t yet 
correctly named

for it felt good
to be cared for
by something 
in this universe

that lately seems so intent
on crushing the last spark
out of our spirits.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

2 responses to “The Ghost Caressing My Face

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