It is a crystal prism of song found golden in victory
dull ash in neglect, ruby in desperation.
Words that do not change form still shift in the spinning wheel
from blue grief to deep green hope to flaming orange doubt
crying out new purpose to each hour hand.
Our moments reteach us old songs:
hold the prism to the dawn and see.
Creative Commons License
This work by Briana Batty is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. DP
    Dec 08, 2019 @ 13:35:04

    Great poem!


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