The Rift

by Kayla M. Miller

Although wicked is, may never wicked stay.

Although the damp dark steals away light’s gradient—

Like a protruding sack of liquid birth—

It tears through onward to the

North glamoured night.

Prophets rain down and swoon over life.

Mist eyes and detach ears,

For those that know of crystallized death.

Whimsical tunes no more delight in days—

In daze of present skin—

Upon blue and vacant heartfelt sky.

The damp dark singes deep,

A forgetful child’s beloved dream,

Like concrete waves corrupt the sea.

Although memories of loss sting me,

Although the rift is, may never the rift be.


Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing, SNHU Student