MY GHOST

There's a Booger in the woods--
How do I know he's there?
When I walk too close to Him,
His talons snag my hair

He frightens me, he makes me cry
More so than Robbers, or Hoods--
I stay away from Meadows now,
'cause there's a Booger in the woods!

I've a Ghost who shadows me
Down every Path I tread;
I've tried every means I know
To convince Him that He's dead

I plead with him to let me be,
Yet does my Ghost my footsteps fill.
His viscid croaking reminding me
That I alone can His voice still!

Is't not enough just to deplore Him?
Can it be I must ignore Him?
Does my acknowledgement restore Him?
Give Him Power? Make Him Whole?

If true, I must command Him gone!
Starting now! This very Dawn!
Clammy hands no longer on
My Back, my Neck, nor on my Soul!

There WAS a Booger in those Trees,
But Spring is here, and leaves are on!
And dead things cannot my heart freeze,
Nor long live, where's Life, and Sun!

I thought I heard Him yesterday,
But I laughed, and said, "It's but the Breeze!
"It's months now since He's called my name
"For there is NO Booger in those Trees!"



A word of Explanation: "Booger" is a catch-all term used in the South, to
refer to any spooky but insubstantial thing. Earlier forms include "bogey"
and "boggart" As this is a poem about facing and eventually conquering
one's fears, it seemed an apt choice, despite its other more-common meaning.

Emma

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