A Memory

By NIGHTMAN

I recall my early day  
In this moments so close
To the upcoming era
Of haunting creatures at bay.
It was scent of a girl 
That trembled my daydream souvenir of the past—
And I thought tales are true
And young ones innocent flesh and smell be it in memory be it in real
Attracts those unholy children of the night—
Those creatures of shadows at bay.
I remember the day we celebrated 
A marvelous tradition that has seen countless springs, an audition
And we put on masks, I the skeleton
That girl I never forget was the witch and others vampires and demons—
Not far away from what adulthood might bring
So we shall observe who might triumph, 
Who may change atmosphere for grim, dreary, dismal, dingy—
Yet childish sweat candy sharing 
Along ongoing games
Besides who may win finally 
This nightmarish hellish petition.
All of a sudden my mother smiled and whispered:
“My dear don’t forget your ancestor’s traditions”
Nonetheless I drowned myself in an ocean of laugh with unspeakable joy
She watched
Suddenly her lips gushed red roses
And she transformed into an angel.
Everyone seemed lost
Every child unaware
Of the ultimate torment
Unaware of the arrival.
Like monsters or demigods
Angels and demons
Crawling skeletons and witches
Promised instant of dread came
Our nails started to root toward ground along our tears
Our bones shape-shifted toward the sky, we became tall and seemed high
Faces once seemed innocent and dimming went dull
And we became not the monsters, freaks, alien invaders or archangels
But masks
In infinite forms each suited for a day
Attached forever to our soul
And faces.