Beautiful, beautiful boy, so sweet in your demeanor
Your crinkled eyes frame your shining smile
Your intentions even cleaner
Your heart is so open
You wear it on your sleeve
How do you do that, beautiful boy?
How do you love so openly, without reprieve?
I wish I could love like you
But I fear my heart is locked away
Behind a heavily guarded fortress
That I so desperately wish would decay.
A ghost built this fortress, so many years ago
And through the years, it’s stood tall
Through the floods, through the soot, through the snow.
I’ve tried to destroy it on my own
My hands are calloused from hammering at its brick
But I’ve barely made a dent, you see
I’m afraid only the ghost himself can demolish a structure this thick
How do I welcome back a ghost,
I’ve spent half my life trying to push away?
What if he doesn’t come back in peace?
What if he doesn’t choose to stay?
I’ll wait on my front door step,
With the autumn leaves beneath my feet,
Listening for that haunting rumble,
Of his singular, metallic black fleet.
I have performed every seance,
I have cleansed my house of all its rage.
But I still search for him in the audience
When I’m performing on that stage.
It was once out of fear
But now, I fear, it’s out of longing for
Something past, something new, yet nostalgic
Gently knocking at my door.
Dear ghost, bring yourself
And I’ll bring my tears,
My pools of relief,
After these six long years.
When I swam in the ocean at daybreak, I looked into his narrow blue eyes.
When I ran my hand across the cool, sturdy Arizona red rock,
I felt his calloused hand once again holding mine.
And when I ventured out under the brilliant desert moon and let the sage-infused desert air fill my lungs with peace,
I heard my ghost calling out to me
And I knew.
How do I welcome back a ghost
After I have ran from him for so long?
After I decided he would be dead to me,
Why do I now want to know his favorite song?
I spoke with my ghost the other day.
His voice sounded different from how i remembered,
Like the violent waves of time crashed and broke through his body,
Leaving him more coarse, yet more withered.
I told my ghost about the Arizona red rock
And the mesmerizing desert moon
I showed him the ocean at daybreak,
But he played me his same old tune.
I expected to hear this, though.
I was more prepared this time than last.
Because this time, it bounced off my fortress walls,
Instead of adding onto them like in the past.
Ghosts can’t see the truth for what it is
They can’t even touch what’s real
And as much as they try and hurt and grieve
They don’t have the power to describe how they feel.
But my ghost did say something to me before he departed
Back into the abyss of my telephone screen
And those three words, and my repetition of them,
Made one brick of my fortress break off, fall down,
And disintegrate into the lush forest green.
