ghost

Page Forty-five

Thurs 23 July 2009

I've made eight trips to Turners Falls in the last ten days, though today I'm writing in Greenfield. I'm the ghost of Turners Falls, the empty one who goes to haunt the streets and the buildings and the waters where her life was, where her love was. Though I had periods of great emptiness back in the years that made up what was my own life, I've never been as empty as now. And though I had periods of wrenching loneliness in my own life (even with the animals), I've never been this alone. I wasn't built for this much loneliness. I do very poorly in it, both physically and psychologically. I care about nothing but the past, and the one human friend I have. Ghost.

(e. balivet tapestry at www.gaelsong.com)


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