Moira Miller ’27
A blue wind whispers through teal trees,
A sadness fills the sky’s voice as she speaks to me,
Sandpaper leaves fall to shallow ground,
I jolt awake as the purple lightning strikes down,
And all around, I am reminded of my Benadryl dreams.
The sky itself, a sage green, a canopy of wonder,
A blurry grey vignette clouds around my vision,
I weep black tears that water the ever-growing oceanic abyss that swallows them whole.
The children they were,
Born of light and cradled in darkness.
I wonder how she sees me now as I fall closer to ground,
I felt her warmth, cocooning me in safety from the long cold, never-ending months,
And all the bitter resentment from the world was cast away, like a stone thrown far into a deep
lake, never to resurface.
It was her golden sunshine that lit my way through the dark caverns of uncertainty,
Ever winding deeper and deeper into the mountain of disparity.
It was her bright dazzling star that watched and guided my ship to the prosperous mainland,
The waves that gently lulled my crew and I to sleep every night.
And though my words may not be understood by man, they come true from the songs of the
birds above and clear as the healing tears she sheds for her fallen people.