The Ghost of Brae

My latest piece

The Ghost of Brae
Today I reached the choking Tree the Periapsis of my walk,
Here as ever I stopped to catch my breath the world burning
My senses as lungs feebly grasped respite.

Here I knelt my head between my knees seeking supplication
From the green two ravens nestled in the branches above 
Overlooking the city below and I remembered.

I remembered your tales Edie hands crippled by arthritis,
Made Sunday lunches shared family secrets; the banshee,
The raven and the docker etched into my subconscious.

You told me tales of the family ghost, one who would 
Manifest when a powerful matriarch was soon to pass,
She howled for your mother, grandmother, your aunt.

I wonder did she howl for you? Only women could hear her
Cry I missed your last breath tied up in literature and learning
Visited between classes, so proud of accomplishments.

The Raven you said came for our family as well only the
Men were touched by its call if he visited three times,
Locked eyes and looked inwards a man would die.

Conversely if raven sat on the fence and stared outwards 
Changes would come take away to distant shores, her
Bird, her touch on silken wings.

The docker a link to the Titanic a great uncle who worked
On that tragic vessel fell from the rafters and spent his days
Slowly bleeding out, his sheets, the bed and the floor soaked.

That mark which never left no matter how much they scrubbed,
The room that remained locked. I can breathe now so I turn to head
Home while the ravens take wing and sail with me.

Amos Greig

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