Talking to Ghosts June 21st, 2007

I hear their voices surround me and fill my head with thoughts of times that drifted away,
Times when sanity was nothing I cared about or sought,
Laughter and smiles around tables of conversations and future plans,
The future has arrived for me and I still talk to those ghosts whose plans never happened,
I see their kids and their families and they all have that sorrow and misery in their eyes,
I know they talk to the ghosts too, I know they feel the way I do,
I have no words of wisdom, or tales of why them and not me,
Things have happened for a reason, destiny and fate have left their mark and I still stand,
Wondering if I should live for them, allow them to live through me, doing the right thing,
They may be my plans and aspirations that have unfolded, but it was their deaths,
Their deaths pushed me on this path, a resolve, a motivation, a spiritual force pushing me,
I talk to them and often say, I wish you were here, or we could have had a lot more fun,
But those stares I get back are desolate and blank, pain filled eyes staring at me in my sleep
When my eyes open every morning, my head is heavy along with my eyelids,
My first thoughts are of those ghosts, too many to name here, too many to forget,
Death took some of them with drugs, others with alcohol, some died of disease,
But the ghosts I talk to the most are the ones who died by their own hands,
There are less of them, but their numbers are still great, they cannot be overlooked,
Talking to Ghosts is how I start my day, and usually end it under the night's sky,
They tell me how much they lost, how they were wrong for tempting death,
I listen with great care, for they know how to not let it happen to me,
Those Ghosts tell me how important every life is, how dark the place where they live is,
They explain to me exactly what I need to hear to today,
Talking to Ghosts allows me to not join them today, or tomorrow,
Yet I yearn for more understanding than they can give me,
I ask questions about the past, things that cannot be changed,
Yet trying to find understanding and gain closure,
Too many have walked that lonely road with the Grim Reaper,
They all left their mark in my memory, they all have a place in my heart,
Friends, family, acquaintances, enemies, and strangers, yet they all meant something to me,
I follow the same path day in and day out, I try to visit their gravesites regularly,
But I ask how much precious time can a living person spend visiting the dead,
I cannot spend anymore time talking to ghosts, I have to remember that I am still alive,
I am walking a warm, friendly path with myself and a living world,
It's time to put those ghosts into the memories banks and keep them there,
Put my American Indian heritage behind me and stop talking to ghosts,
Leave the spirits to stand on the boundaries of reality always regretting their own deaths,
Let them guide me by feelings and intuitions, instead of with words,
Because the dead are dead, what do they know about living?