Samhain

In the season leaves should love,
since it gives them leave to move 
through the wind, towards the ground
they were watching while they hung, 
legend says there is a seam 
stitching darkness like a name. 
  
Now when dying grasses veil 
earth from the sky in one last pale 
wave, as autumn dies to bring 
winter back, and then the spring, 
we who die ourselves can peel 
back another kind of veil 
  
that hangs among us like thick smoke. 
Tonight at last I feel it shake. 
I feel the nights stretching away 
thousands long behind the days, 
till they reach the darkness where 
all of me is ancestor.
  
I turn my hand and feel a touch
move with me, and when I brush
my young mind across another, 
I have met my mother's mother. 
Sure as footsteps in my waiting 
self, I find her, and she brings 
  
arms having answers for me, 
intimate, a waiting bounty. 
"Carry me." She leaves this trail 
through a shudder of the veil, 
and leaves, like amber where she stays, 
a gift for her perpetual gaze.