Literature
When the Lanterns Remember the Living (Poem)
Beneath the breath of a copper moon,
The trees lean close, their fingers croon,
Whispering spells through brittle leaves,
While autumn sighs and softly grieves.
Jack-o’-lanterns blink in rows of fire,
Each face a ghost of lost desire,
Carved by hands now cold and still-
Yet their laughter haunts the hill.
Children run with paper wings,
Their laughter stitched with darker things;
Sweetness hides in sugared lies,
While shadows bloom in candy skies.
Through every window, candlelight,
Mourns the bones of yesternight;
Time itself, a weary ghoul,
Counting souls like golden jewels.
But hush-when midnight’s mirror breaks,
The world beneath the grave awakes;
For on this night, the veil runs thin-
And even death lets memory in.
So if you walk where spirits gleam,
Step softly through another’s dream;
For every flame, however dim,
Burns for the ones who once burned within.
(This original poem and image are copyright Bukoslav, 2025)
