Rain in the morning
Rain in the morning,
grey steel is in the sky,
and in my eyes the colour
shows. The night’s fury kept me awake
since 3 am. My troubles are like spiders
that creep and curl along the
ceiling, hovering with the stillness
of death. I must keep going
though my body aches with fever
and my mind is prey to despair. I drink
necessity’s authority. To watch a loved-one suffer
is worse than shame, worse than feeling
futility collapse on your throat
or a weapon held at the head.
Rain in the morning. It is a mistake to
hurl the emptiness outward, to pray for the destroyed
or curse the goldfish for their beauty.
But who can give the minerals meaning,
magic to the snail, or purity to the worm?
Rain in the morning.
Little by little the terror rises,
and the world outside remains unchanged.
Copyright © 1997 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “B-Gina Review”
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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.