STAND UP

Our ghosts

no longer

whisper,

“Get out.”

They scream,

“STAND UP!”

The soft

phantom foot-falls

on our stairs

have grown loud

stomping

rhythmic

marching

Stopping

just outside

the threshold

The shadows

take familiar

forms

I recognize

their pleading eyes

Stand up

Stand up

Stand.

Kathy Keogh

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