Daunted Ghosts

I approach a locked door
anticipating the terror
lying in the darkness behind it.

Cautiously I open the door
and see a blurred creature
hiding in the shadows
snarling silently as I come closer.

My heart is pounding with fear
but all the ghost sees in my presence
is the determination in my eyes.

I switch on the lights
and walk around the ghost,
realizing it is only a memory.

I laugh at myself:
how can I be terrified of my own memories.
They have no power to hurt me.
The ghost dissolves in a puff.

Lights. Relief. Peace.

I enjoy the beauty and freedom of the room,
breathing the fresh air
that suddenly filled the space.
All shadows are away,
the creepy snarling of yesterday is gone,
replaced with a quiet aria of tomorrows.

I race to another dark door,
push it wide open and step in.

What are my secrets?
What are my fears?
My own memories.
Counterfeit ghosts.
Pieces of shit.