ghosts
There is a spot on the highway
where the road I once followed is intercepted
by the road I tread now.
A single stretch of tarmac next to a strawberry farm and
a stop sign.
Anonymous. The story it could tell
has been beaten into the ground
by bored commuters.
It is not
the echo of a screech you hear; not a thud
rattling the bones of the road.
Just the dirge of the wind rattling the trees.
Can you see the ghost
on the central reservation with her head in her hands?
I went back there today and for the first time
I was behind the wheel. I saw
the ghost and with her
I cried but whilst her tears spoke of shock and terror
mine sang with relief. There is no place on earth
more powerful than this little spot on the highway
but today I said I am stronger.
(Catherine Hannah, February 9th, 2024)