.
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
amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst
.
First published in “B-Gina Review”, 2012
http://bginareview.wordpress.com/2012/07/25/rain-in-the-morning/
http://www.scoop.it/t/b-gina-review-journal
.
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.
I did not talk to a single person today that did not tell me here in New Mexico that they had trouble sleeping last night. We have finally had a couple of nice, reasonably warm days, but mostly days of rain, snow, and cold, and they’re predicting more of the same for this weekend.
I think we humans are always affected by weather, rain or snow, as the post office says, but also by
…spiders
that creep and curl along the
ceiling, hovering with the stillness
of death…
and our troubles and this is all true:
…To watch a love-one suffer is worse
than shame, worse than feeling
futility collapse on your throat
or a weapon held at the head…
at least in my life. It is also true that
Little by little the terror rises,
and the world outside remains unchanged.
For all the world encroaches into our head and leaves us with our troubles, the world does remain unchanged, moving from season to season, year to year, decade to decade, century to century in its endless circles. As usual, Allison, this is really good poetry.
How we’d like the world to stop spinning, for even a moment, just a moment, to show us that our pain matters…as a child when I experienced a great loss, a death, I wondered why the world didn’t stop. At such a young age, I felt the passing endlessness of days.
What cathartic comfort for angst!
You are the queen of cathartic comfort!
Certain lines should go down in Bartlett’s Quotations.
They boom like thunderous sharp true insight!
“I drink necessity’s authority.”