Megan Blaney

Rift

A narrow rift opens—

splitting the bright

from what’s gone sour.

It widens by the hour,

pulling down pieces

the past won’t claim.

 

Throw in your worries,

your half-formed fears—

the rift swallows everything.

With every offering

it grows deeper.

Careful now—don’t slip.

 

One side: the hopeful.

The other: the haunted.

Be grateful, we say,

for the space between—

as if distance could save us,

as if it could drag the worst away.

 

But listen—our footholds

are dusting out beneath us.

And in the end,

we tumble together

into the widening dark.