Lost Soul
By: Kate MacDonald-Dunbar

When I rise from the dank depths and enter your world of colour,
from the dark creeps those spirits you would never want to see
a grey cloud of decay and despair emanates from these wraiths.
As the patron saint of lost souls, I help the miserable to break free.

Trapped in limbo, for eternity, amongst the bad, are some good souls,
whose pasts hold them on the wrong side of that great divide.
A soldier, killed by a NAAFI sergeant because he knew he was a crook,
a girl, whose accidental sleeping pill overdose was called a suicide.

I take with me into your world some darkness, and when I return,
still entwined within my soul, remains a little of your world of light.
My task, seemingly endless, is to show a poor spirit's innocence,
which, although it might darken the day, will help to brighten the night.


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