I love how, right away, you establish the time. That it's witching hour, or when ghosts and the supernatural are said to be active and at their most powerful. Your wording here is stunning, especially the idea of "ghosts start shaking your tears." One of my favorite things in poetry is people interpreting what ghosts mean to them. Whether it's more of nostalgia, a lost memory, or a tangible reminder of their past or of parts of themselves that are no more.
Love the use of "prism" and "spectrum" in this as well. How white reflects all colors too, and perhaps it is here that ALL souls wander. Not just lost ones, or those unable to cross, but ones that are grieving, that have to cope with life still. It made me think of how parts of us can feel like we're not connected with this world anymore, or have crossed over. Perhaps we are not aware of our own demise, or perhaps we are there to comfort others who have to accept their fate.
In regards to your title, I keep going back and forth with the meaning. Which is why I adore so much of your poetry, because there's multiple interpretations and it never lacks depth. The ending lines are quite tender, but also melancholy. Holding hands for reassurance. Are you surrendering, believing in the supernatural and facing the parts of death and beyond that scare you? Are you surrendering your preconceived notions and ideas that maybe there isn't a finality like you imagined, that sometimes these souls remain? Or are you surrendering and processing, grieving your own death?