In slow communion with the dead,
our hallowed hands we raise.
The waning face of Luna turns
now to her darkest phase.
The quiet sept and sepulcher
lie waiting in the gloom:
anticipation of the veil,
its thinning happens soon.
Thin places speak in shadows,
their quiet tongues unfurl:
Don’t lose yourself and fall
into another haunted world.
The shroud across your eyes will clear
and horror soon rush in.
The tomb awaits with open arms
now that the veil is thin.
Heather Dail, a Senior English Instructor at the University of South Alabama, finds creative inspiration every year when the veil thins and the time draws near to Samhain. As a board member of an historic cemetery where many of her ancestors are buried, Heather enjoys reading poetry around this time of year at the cemetery to commemorate those who have crossed to the other realm.
Published 10/31/24