Hallows of the night

Jack Sorenson

Hallows of the night

Searching for more like myself facing my own doomed
 to feel the dead calling myself for a recantation
to hear them, the beating heartbeat
coming forward to me, calling me for help

Now too be heard by myself
to meet up on this night
at the Hollow’s of the darkness
 of the moons darkness night

Now of a closed old Cemetery nearby in 
  Gilroy for me, to see you my poor child
murdered so very long ago

 seeing all from where I sat at the Irish pub stool
from the chair, where your burred at
 I sit still at, and the place you haunt,
the Cities only Irish pub
I hear yours clarify, the wiper voice

but not for gotten but now found
 as you been only speaking to me
 it’s best to be their first
to hear for myself your story
were your burred just below the pub

I feel it best at night to be at the cemetery gates
Instead of the Irish pub during the day,
 where you were stronger yonder

Standing grad over your family tumbled sad life
  Now placed to rest never to have given up looking for you
 in the eerily 1800s
 when the day and date you disparate
poor Christabel
 I know your story in how you passed away
At the end of potter’s field, the forgotten ones