Occupation.

They let themselves in
the front door,
uninvited waves
crashing on your shore.
They asked
if you wanted a cup of tea
before pouring a
bitter glass of misery.
Ghosts in the attic,
ghosts in the seats,
why is your occupation?

They tossed the girls in the attic
and the boys downstairs –
chained by broken promises,
caught unawares.
They asked them
if they wanted a cup of tea,
but wouldn’t let them
recall the feeling
of their feet in the sea.
Ghosts on the water,
ghosts in the trees,
where is your occupation?

They put up walls
to organize your space,
constructed confinements,
nailed them to your face.
They installed locks
because walls weren’t enough
to shut out the ghosts
all clamouring for love.
Ghosts in the basement,
ghosts in the land,
what is your occupation?

We live on top of
someone else’s land –
they gave it to us
when we cut off their hands.
If gifts are given,
then what does that make me?
The thief
that came across the
great, dark sea.
Ghosts in the lair,
ghosts in the sheets,
when is your occupation?

© Rylan Skelly, September 2018


About the Author: I have a B.A. in Honours Religious Studies from the University of Waterloo; I have a love for all major world religions – Eastern, Western, or in between; I’m genderqueer, and I’m comfortable with male, neutral, and female pronouns; I’m married to my dear wife Lynn, who is the love of my life, my best friend, and my muse; I think far too much, and often have too many ideas to know what to do with; and I am a doing being, just like you!

 

Not Quite a Book Verse where were you when I needed you?

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Rylan Skelly View All →

I have a B.A. in Honours Religious Studies from the University of Waterloo; I have a love for all major world religions - Eastern, Western, or in between; I'm genderqueer, and I'm comfortable with male, neutral, and female pronouns; I'm married to my dear wife Lynn, who is the love of my life, my best friend, and my muse; and I am a doing being, just like you!

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