The large June light
is woven with the clouds
like a wind to steal away all breathing.
And on the moving Earth, lawnmowers
roar and little snails crawl across
the wet pavement.
There are no more dreams, only this
woodchip swallowed and the bright water
The fog has shown me my substance.
I eat my plums whole and wish
for my child everything tender and alive.
I feel the breeze through the window, taking
the curves, turning me over like a patch
of rotted grass. I am now beginning to be collected,
to answer to this new name and see my past
through a fearless eye. I feel the kick
of a new vision formed and feel
the gentlest of mercies
roll down my chest like a kitten.
This is lunch, an autumn leaf waxed
and the laundry dried.
Give me birth. My body skips across the edge,
and all good things are finally waking.
Copyright © 1997 by Allison Grayhurst
Published in “Bold Monkey” October 2015
Published in “Leaf Garden Press”
You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
“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.