Ghosts and Snails

Tags: death, love, poetry, time

This poem came to me in a dream, including the ghosts and snails.
I read it within the “Tales from Beyond” event that took place on the 1st of November 2019 at the Théâtre du Centaure (Luxembourg) and it was included in the anthology of short stories and poems published with that occasion.

black ink drawing of a bel jar with twigs and snails in a basement, by Ronan Crowley
Artwork especially commissioned for the poem’s publication in “Tales from Beyond”, drawn in ink by the very talented Ronan Crowley. Follow him on Instagram


In our home, we were all there – all our family, all our kin, and you as well, for you were kin

And yet I did harbour more feelings for you

Than would have been approved by others.

But I didn’t dare show you.

You were older.

You were 41.

And you were dying.

I held your hand and looked into your eyes and I saw you were scared

That you didn’t see the angel who would take you to heaven.

What can an atheist do for a believer?

I was so torn.

But I loved you and so I wished for your angel to come because you wanted it to

And it did.

Your angel of light came and became one with you and you died happy

Holding my hand.

And your body melted with the angel

And it became a bell jar with earth, twigs and beautiful snails,

Silver, golden snails, shimmering in the light.

I took the bell jar to the basement and set it on a table.

On your 40th birthday I had written some questions on a piece of paper

And left it on the stairs for you to see,


Not wanting you to know it was me.

But you knew

And you answered

And I didn’t know

Until now.

I found the paper, on the stairs to the basement.

Your answers were there, sweet, lovely,

Love was in them as love was in my questions

And I wept, for it was too late.

I set the bell jar on a table in the basement and your ghost appeared and took my hand.

And we talked, and we danced, and we dined together.

And we were happy.

But you were a ghost now.

We didn’t know whether you’d ever return to flesh.

Most surely not.

And it pained me to see I was spending my life in a basement

With a bell jar full of snails and a ghost

When outside, in the sunshine, by the beautiful fountain with sparkling waters,

Young love was waiting for me with gorgeous blue eyes.


Veronica Badea logo/signature in black

~Dreamt in August 2012~

Published in:

cover of the Tales from Beyond anthology

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