Suspended between poles

The lines whip and snap

Under high winds.

In an instant

Plunged into darkness.

The veil,

Previously opened

With moments of intention,

Falls silent.

A heavy velvet curtain

Muffling your voice

And my own.

No more messages,

No words,

No muse.

The days of

Saints and Souls

Have passed.

Today?

The footsteps and whispers

Begin anew,

As the ancestors

Resume the annual

Parade of lessons.

Lining up to remind me

Of who they were

And of who

I am.