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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required A hive of activity, twenty four hours, The centre was where they controlled, All the technicians, in all of our vans, Delivering the service we sold. But in the small hours, those there at night, Would tell a strange story to all. About a small woman who looked very sad, And seemed to walk right through the wall. This came quite a problem, for staff working there Refused to be present alone. Although the late shift would need only one, Nobody would work on their own. Their manager called me, for I was her boss, And said this needs sorting today. She knew I had knowledge of things of this sort, And asked me to chase it away. Now can you imagine, the rules I would break, If I had agreed to this task. A senior manager leading his staff, In a séance, is that what you ask? But somehow this problem seemed deeper to me, A poor soul adrift with no light. Although staff were frightened and that was quite bad, The woman was tied to her plight. I gathered my team from the centre right there, And met at my home late that night. A manager, supervisor, controller as well. With for some others, we’d try to do right. Though none of the people who worked in this place, Had walked on this pathway before. Almost as soon as we dimmed down the lights, The voice from my ‘manager’ swore. She’d gone in full trance and as plain as could be, Was the lady who shared her workplace. But t’was me she resented, she saw me a threat, For she thought I’d no right to her space. A very long evening, but I’ll tell you most, Of the things that took place there that night. This lady was wandering and bound to the earth, After having a terrible fight. An immigrant woman, from somewhere in the east, Had been brought by her spouse to this land. He’d beat her and kick her, and keep her in fear, When his drinking was guiding his hand. Than one day in torment, she’d suddenly snapped, And run a steel blade through his heart. Then buried his body in our building’s vaults, But could then never make a fresh start. So even when passing, she carried her guilt, And was shackled by this to her home. It now was our duty to help her get free, Or eternity she’d have to roam. But alas as I open my mouth to begin, My brother’s face changed and ‘he’ swore. ”You murderess bitch, you’ll pay for your sin” Then he rose up to “murder the whore”. Now though I have travelled this pathway before, I think you’ll agree on that night. The last thing I wanted was two people there, In séance beginning a fight! Thank heaven my spirit can stand on it’s own, For I sent this madman whence he came. And when ‘she’ stopped shaking from meeting her man, We finally got back to the game. Convincing this lady, that she’d really died, Then took up the most of the night. But very soon after, with one of her friends, We helped show her the way to the ‘light’. The control room now happy, they’ve only one ghost, And nobody wants him to go. He’s a cheerful chappie they meet with a smile, And he stays in the shop down below. For three of the staff it has altered their lives, Though they knew that her ghost they had seen. They thought she was evil and wanted them dead, But now know, she was walking in dream. These three never ‘shopped me’ for playing my role, Though at times, when alone late at night. I’m sure they all wonder what fun there’d have been, If I hadn’t broke up a good fight! Ivor G Davies
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