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Bed Fellow

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Night freezes like wet hair to the skull,

signifies a choir of cries

dragged into the dark wind by the masses of

dying. And dying like a father eventually

dies to his child’s need for

mercy, like a mouse dies

being blindly tossed between feline

fangs, night has no miracles. Has long been

home to nocturnal insects, to open snares and

moods too heavy to comfort. Night is

noose to the broken-down pilgrim,

to the loud dancer who step

by step howls for freedom. Night is the

drunken wood of broken heroes,

the artist’s menacing koo-koo koo-koo.

And lo! to feel the mirror in the night

rise before face and eyes, condemning

with its vague outline,

the thinning form of all and every

hope, reality!

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Copyright © 1997 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “CRASH a litzine”

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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“Allison Grayhurst intertwines a potent spirituality throughout her work so that each poem is not simply a statement or observation, but a revelation that demands the reader’s personal involvement. Grayhurst’s poetic genius is profound and evident. Her voice is uniquely authentic, undeniable in its dignified vulnerability as it is in its significance,” Kyp Harness, singer/songwriter, author.

“Allison Grayhurst’s poems are like cathedrals witnessing and articulating in unflinching graphic detail the gritty angst and grief of life, while taking it to rare clarity, calm and comfort. Grayhurst’s work is haunting, majestic and cleansing, often leaving one breathless in the wake of its intelligence, hope, faith and love amidst the muck of life. Many of Allison Grayhurst’s poems are simply masterpieces. Grayhurst’s poetry is a lighthouse of intelligent honour… indeed, intelligence rips through her work like white water,” Taylor Jane Green, Registered Spiritual Psychotherapist and author.