My Ancestors at the Veil by Meg Smith


Threads fall thinly in November,
but the green of grass and leaves will keep.
I will carve a root, with teeth, eyes, and
a heart of flame,
to frighten devils, and guide loved ones
to the boiling at the hearth.
I will bake the speckled bread with its
fortunes — a stick, a ring, a coin,
but more than this, a blessing.
For my people, the summons of hallows,
will hold within me their shadows,
always, as I hold them, in our country
where spirits travel with crooked backs
on this night, beginning and ending of nights.


Meg Smith is a writer, journalist, dancer, and events producer living in Lowell, Mass. In addition to previously appearing in Tales from the Moonlit Path, her poetry and fiction have appeared in The Horror Zine, Dark Dossier, Sirens Call, Dark Moon Digest, and many more. 

Published 10/28/21


She is author of five poetry books and a short fiction collection, The Plague Confessor. She welcomes visits to


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