Through midnight fields the silent figure goes,
No hunger drives him through the sleeping land;
A body walks where once a person rose,
Yet something else now holds the reins in hand.
The living fear the power that can command
A soul removed from all its former ties;
For death alone is not the deepest dread—
But life compelled beneath another's eyes.
In Haitian tales, the zonbi bears this weight,
A person robbed of freedom and control;
The body serves another's will and fate,
While absence settles where there lived a soul.
Not every story tells the same dark tale,
And meanings shift through generations' speech;
But at its heart lies terror of the veil
That separates the self from rightful choice.
Thus folklore gives the wandering form
A meaning deeper than the graveyard's dead:
The greatest horror is not death's cold storm,
But losing mastery of the self instead.
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Author:
Matthew R. Callies (
Offline) - Published: October 17th, 2026 00:12
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem is about the zombie. Not the pop culture monster, but the kind of zombie from Haitian voodoo
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange
- In collections: Heroes, Gods and Monsters, Poems for Spooktober.
Offline)
Comments2
I love this work for the subject itself as well as the skill of its crafting. The Zombie an archetype and metaphor holds primal fears and meaning. Loss of control over ones actions or thoughts is a deep fear. Just look at dementia. This poem is dark and nicely crafted in AB rhyme it has a controlling feel to it. A fave Matthew
I love horror, Matthew, but Iād have trouble enjoying this fellow as a monster. Iād be rooting for him to get away. BTW, Iām a huge Wes Craven fan...have you seen The Serpent and the Rainbow? š¹š¤ššÆļøš¦āā¬
No I haven't, but I do have it on my Halloween watchathon this year.
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