The Ghost of Me

Shadows and Echoes.
People come and go.
Some see me; no one knows
I am my own ghost.

I wait for the kaleidoscope to spin
Pulling me from the place I’m in
Into the chaotic twirl of change again
But who I am already descends

Laid to rest in the most foreign land
My bones interred bear the brand
Will that mark, by some mysterious hand,
Tie me ever to this place I planned,

But could never understand?

I don’t want to leave;
I don’t want to stay.
I want to stop haunting,
To dissolve away

By some gentle breeze,
Into nothing.
Instead

I scream with coyotes
Barefoot I run with them.
I howl like the wind.
My soul is tethered;
I fear I’ll be trapped here when
The kaleidoscope spins

Roaming and wailing with no end.