Persephone, Queen of Ghosts,
Young herself, youthful in her cassock
Deep shadows draped from column to post
Hide hands on the poppy’s stalk
She pulls, she plucks, the flower parts
And weeps, while its juices flow
To the sleeping ghosts’ hearts
Guaranteeing the gentle sleep they owe
“Oh,” she says to miss seventeen.
“There’s no secret silent death holds,
When the play is done, there ends the scene
Last words are lost and untold.
“Your frightened breath will fade
And restful repose awaits
Find no faults in yourself, gentle maid,
Find nothing to hate.
"For in death are no illusions,
No dreams, no nightmares
It is true that there is purification,
And a collapse of faces fair,
“But reason this, ye,
Do these my servants look unhappy?
They sleep the sleep of death, see,
And no more cry, and no more be.”
She took her hand, and she laid her down
Then came the dream of eternal sleep
Her face drew to a tiny frown,
But it was untroubled and her rest was deep.
Behold a Pale Horse: The 2021 Halloween Horrorquest