On The Other Side
Where Spirits Dare Not Tread, They Hide
Where the dead does not tread, they can only hide,
In shadows, in darkness, shying away from mortal cries.
Abandoned halls, corridors twisting and windows busted,
A lone shadow stalks the passages between light and dark,
They are there, there in shadows, gone when the sun rises.
They are broken things, their forms all thin and twisted.
Hush. They are listening, skittering, already under your bed.
They lurk, taking to shadows of the attic and cloest, screaming,
Hiding, fleeing, broken nails scratching at the floorboards.
Dappled sunlight, fluttering leaves on the wind, singing birds,
An exhale, sharp edges softening, convulsing spirits lie down,
They rest in the light of the living, dreaming of broken wishes.
Where the dead does tread, it is there that you know they died,
They are silent, watchful, and observant as their loved ones cry.
They are part of every memory and story you have ever read,
As darkness comes once again, the house is silent, remembering,
Be still, listen. Their spirits remain to remind you they once existed,
In places none dare walk are the worlds where they have persisted.
About the Creator
Brittany Miller
As a writer who loves the fantastical and unnatural, Brittany enjoys writing fictional stories that fall into the fantasy and horror genres.
Find her here: https://www.facebook.com/thechaosarchivist
Or here: brittanicolemiller.wordpress.com
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More stories from Brittany Miller and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments (5)
I really love this, felt dark and weirdly calming all at once.
Whoaaa! This blew my mind! This was stunningly fantastic! And I've always been fascinated by dark poetry. So I absolutely loved your poem!
This was really good, a little dark, I love that
Very interesting..
I loved all the imagery! There were so many wonderful word choices and phrases. I really liked this poem, great work :)