Becoming a Ghost
I feel the wind
blowing through me and around me and into me
like an inexhaustible flame,
burning into my cheeks, my hair, my eyes,
my hands, until there is nothing left
except a smouldering cinder
that is my soul.
I am standing in dream's endless ocean.
I will shout, hurl stones, my heart
into its depths.
When it awakens I will be nothing
except the restlessness of the tide.
I will be
the shovel's edge, the darkness, earth's silence
drowning the beating of your heart.
Close your eyes.
Turn your face away.
Do not look at me
or touch me.
Something is going to happen.
I can feel it.