all the ghosts of old new england
the houses made of sand
each grain a separate galaxy
roughshod, liminal land

I forgive them for the haunting
it's only ghostly nature
and the shadows no longer scare me
cause they're only there

so I'll take what you have given me
an empty promised land
where the ravens all sing melodies
and the moths give them a hand
outside the barn owl softly makes its only demand:

["speak and act with empathy,
try to get some sleep
the darkness will fade slowly
but a good heart always keeps"]