Not All Ghosts Are Unwelcome

By Yugandhara Marathe

About you I know very little,

And remember even lesser still:

Your death is my clearest memory.

You, oh stranger who shares my face,

Lines hidden deep for only my family to find,

When the light falls just right

And old memories burn bright,

I think you used to be kind.

I think I would have liked to know it as well.

(Not all ghosts are unwelcome:

Some hide in the curves of your face,

And you learn how to give them space.)

By Yugandhara Marathe