A Dance With the Water Wraith

January 27, 20182 min read

This poem came to me spontaneously late at night, while I was huddled under every blanket I own. The house was chilly, and snow was falling lightly outside. Yet, I did not feel lonely at all. I only felt comfort, as if there was another presence in the room with me. That’s when I began writing.

Shattering silence;

an arduous presence.

Awoken from my restless slumber,

squinting at the hazy blur.


There stood an illumination

a distant roaming soul.

Dressed in clothes like the boy I once knew

who now lives at the bottom of the river

weary and weak.


The fragile body stood in front of me

was wrapped in layers of sheets

dripping with the water from the river

arms bound tight around its half-empty vessel.

The phantom pours out

an echo.

The voice familiar and dear.

I remember.


I emerge from the surface

and cling to it with all my might.

Weary and weak myself,

I separate from my vessel.

Regaining strength from his cradle.


The ectoplasm invited me to dance,

pulling me away from my shivering stance.

Away withered my worries, in the arms of the boy I once knew,

A familiarity I had painfully missed all these years.


We spun in circles,

as I looked deep into his obsidian eyes.


A roaming lost soul in my room

taking me away from the night’s awful gloom

The boy I once loved, who was once so distant

Although now invisible, is still existent.

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Nilofer Rolston

Nilofer Rolston is a Pakistani Canadian and an aspiring novelist.