Ghosts - The Lost Soul Poem by Paul Warren

We walked along through on the Heysen Trail
The track was rugged and we wanted to prevail
In the back blocks of the Flinders Ranges we walked
Not wanting to miss a minute as the Cockatoos squawked

Near mid afternoon I looked to the rear as the track did wind
And I was startled by a dark figure standing staring in his design
But the figure stopped and did not go any further in our direction
The sun was sinking behind him and he disappeared in its reflection

So the days went on as we journeyed in the bright Australian sun
And it became a habit to look back from where we had begun
The figure was there every time near the horizon as he waited
When we tried to communicate the man disappeared as he was fated

The mystery of the figure continued to intrigue us until one day
We came upon an old swagman one night at our campfire to stay
He told a story of an aborigine who was placed with a white family
And whose soul was lost one day and now wanders in the land as a homily

He was one of the lost generation who were taken from there rightful place
And had grown up not knowing his kin wandering unhappily in disgrace
Until in his despair he died upon one of the Outback Flinders Ranges trails
So when you see this tortured soul wandering pray for him in his trials.

© Paul Warren Poetry