Hallowed Evening

By Cliff Lake

 

Hallowed Evening

 

The observance is upon us again:

A reversed imitation of sweets soon given,

A mutilation and

An emptying.

A nightmare born,

A gruesome rictus fashioned,

Made in glee,

Proudly displayed.

The rite begins…

 

Grinning ghouls orange and squat,

Stand sided with cousins not yet carved –

A ritual still performed with the knife,

Children watching,

And encouraged to participate.

Harvest and sacrifice:

Such is the custom.

 

Doorstop fiends on every porch,

Filmy webs waving,

Gaunt caricatures in seeming cavort,

Hulking beasts cartoonish,

Or horrifying,

Or something of both,

While the husks of the carven are inner lit,

And watchful.

A communion in frights.

 

Later,

Suspect festivities commence,

Games reminiscent of dreads,

Mawkish disguises roam darkening streets,

Diminutive creatures seeking succor unearned,

Unrepaid,

Yet expected,

And accompanied by vigilant guardians suspicious.

The ceremonial gorging commences,

In preparation for the icy grip closing fast.

Sweet sacrament,

A tradition infused with sugar,

To ward the spirit before the winter’s dark.

 

Cliff Lake 10/16/2024

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

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