Twisting and twirling to the moonlight
so I called out a name in the graveyard
an open invitation to any spirit so obliged.
Out of the fog she came
limbs aflame and glowing
an arabesque of her former life
she twirled in the night shadows.
I grabbed her hand and kissed it
the smell of earth and despair
she nodded and bowed
and so began her dance of loss
the dance of all she was and is.
We lost ourselves in the movements
dancing the dance of life and death
merged together as the cycle continues
dancing with the ghosts of ourselves.
Image and poem Copywright: Carla Haglund
