An old woman pulls the veil aside and hurries you in to the blackness.
Some call her Hag, but they do not notice the soft lines of love and concern on her face.
She hurries you in because she does not want you to think long enough to fear.
She knows that to be in the dark means to shut it all out
so you can be alone,
so you can think,
and dream.

She knows some of us need to howl into the void.
She knows some of us yearn for deep, gentle rest.
She has been preparing the sanctum for very long,
waiting for us,
waiting
and waiting,
with love in her heart. 

Lay the marigolds and fruit on the altar.
Blow kisses to those gone before you.
You are not forgotten. 
Set gifts outside the door for the ghouls you never met.
We know of your loneliness.
Light the lantern to remind them of the way, that there is a way.
There will be an end to your wandering.

Embrace your living friends.
Cherish the moments for they are fleeting, just as we’ve been told.
They are fleeting.

Tasara Jen Stone