The Festival of the Masks (A Poem)

By Joyce Jacobo

[Author’s Note: Perhaps this piece is premature, but I’m already looking forward to the spooky holiday coming next month. Are you?]

Have you ever heard

   about the Festival of Masks

  that strange celebration

       said to take place

            among the tombstones

        every midnight in late October

               when the moon grows full?

Those who know the legend

   say chimes ring out at twilight

       amid fog that sweeps

           and creeps across the land

      while suspended balls of flame dance

              through the air

                     in a procession

                           to their destination

They say the leader of these festivities

    appears as a Lady in White—

        known to catch rides on occasion

            from drivers unaware of her true nature

     and glides before people adorned in masks

                  onto the site of their nighttime revelries

Some people believe the masked guests

        to be spirits recently departed from this life

       while others believe

          they are old beings of lore

              allowed a chance to slip into the world

                      for a short while

But all those concerned do agree

      that to join the festivities

          of these ethereal shades

        is to join their celebration forever

Then with the first

           glimmer of dawn

     away all the partygoers will flee

             to distant parts unknown

So         as they will conclude

      keep at a respectful distance

              on these mystical nights

         and never step on tombstones

                  for those from beyond

                          have their parties

                        in which they alone

                                should engage

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