Exorcism Dance

After all those years of war,
it is over
and the house is quiet,
or nearly so – a breeze blows through the windows,
rustling your hair, rustling your memories,
sending them like dandelion seeds,
wafting out the windows.

Birds sing outside,
joyful and bright against the grey landscape,
as if they know the battles are over.
They hopscotch on the phone lines,
and laugh like children.

You join them in their laughter
a strange unaccustomed sound
that fills the newly empty room.

The exorcism was far quieter than you imagined,
far less painful,
and in the end, the ghosts left quietly,
disappointed perhaps
that their diabolical dance was over,
but polite as they pulled the door
shut.

About this poem

We all have demons. Or at least most of us do. And when we manage to banish one, it is cause for celebration. Even if others may come, the banishment of one is a victory. And victories are things to be celebrated.