Samhain! As the Veil thins, and mists thicken, we gather to cross over. We again walk the Earth upon which we lived. What do we see this night?
Our descendent’s children parade from house to house, costumed as creatures of the night that they’ve taken to calling us!
Where is our feasting hall? The cups of wine and mead, platters of roasted hen, fire-pit seared beef? The tribute our descendents owe us?
I fought, feasted, loved. Served my people all of my years under the sun. I left behind children and grandchildren to carry on family, clan, tribe. Yet on this one night of the year that I share with the living, I am as forgotten as Autumn mist.
They’ll say the wailing is just the wind. That is all our collective cry means to them.
This is the barrenness of harvest or pestilence.
for dVerse Poets’ Prosery 5 โ Allย Hallows (pubtended by Bjorn)
The Pub is still open! Come join us!
Frank J. Tassone 
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