Almost every death
will revive me, unhinge
an opening in the soft part of my throat.
Almost every darkness
when burrowed deeply enough into
will hit the light.
When there is no going back, only
a letting go of all that was and all that was
supposed to be – then the paper will finally be burned,
then the addiction can be kicked, and the pounding
of the slaughteryard screams will transmute
into a softer, more bearable rhythm.
Almost every border crossed will lead
to a new land. In that land, the gift
of belonging will come. There will be raspberries
and grapes on every corner. Someone
will say your name.
Copyright © 2010 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “PoetryMagazine”, Fall 2011
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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.