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As One
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In the empty spaces I wait
for you, for my own being to
bend again towards your beating chest.
And sorrow like a grey October morn
stretches between us, leaves us each
alone watching out the same window.
We are locked like the shore to the sea,
perfectly different and merging in natural
rhythm – each shell and struggling fish
exposed, until we hide in separate elements,
bonded to our own. I follow your footsteps
in my mind, then kiss your shoes for speaking.
You turn on the tape recorder and commune
with the clouds. Often I have held in my breath
and ignored the ache in my throat. I have loved you
without giving – under blankets, more at ease
with the coming of private sleep than with trying.
Often I am bruised by your laughter,
counting pennies on the table with fierce concentration.
Though you with your hands,
hold all the mystery my heart can fathom,
pressing with gentleness my folded brow,
or blending your legs with mine, sure and warm
as the summer earth.
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Copyright © 2000 by Allison Grayhurst
amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst
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First published in “vox poetica” titled as “In love”
http://voxpoetica.com/in-love/
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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.
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This is a love poem, Allison, but has both angst and sadness mixed in with the love. There is beautiful, original language, as in all of your poetry,
sorrow like a grey October morn
stretches between us, leaves us each
alone watching out the same window.
fascinating ideas:
We are locked like the shore to the sea,
perfectly different and merging in natural
rhythm – each shell and struggling fish
exposed, until we hide in separate elements,
bonded to our own.
“each shell and struggling fish/exposed,” talking about the inner being of human beings! An idea that stops you in your tracks and makes you think about what the poet is really saying. Each of the lovers expose themselves to the other, and then they “hide in separate elements…”, trying to escape the exposure.
and the counterpoint of a complex relationship:
Often I am bruised by your laughter,
counting pennies on the table with fierce concentration.
Though you with your hands,
hold all the mystery my heart can fathom,
pressing with gentleness my folded brow,
or blending your legs with mine, sure and warm
as the summer earth.
where the laughter of the lover bruises and causes a retreat into the “counting of pennies on the table with fierce concentration,” but also presents hands that “hold all the mystery my heart can fathom…”
What I get out of this is that the mental/emotional part of the relationship is difficult, but the physical part is “sure and warm/as the summer earth.”
The questions raised by the poem are the old ones: Can the physical excitement of love last? Is that enough? Or does the physicalness of human beings translate into a rhythm powerful enough to overcome the emotional/mental difficulties we all face? Can love of any kind break through the “separate elements” and build a bonding that is strong and lasting? What is the nature of love?
This is, as usual, powerful poetry with a sting that makes the reader examine his/her universe.
Intimate, throbbing, present:
Love:
“under blankets, more at ease
with the coming of private sleep than with trying.”
You capture moments in life with great intimacy.
I’ve seen a lot of insipid, cliched “love poetry” on Word Press but this I like.Tender and honest, with some beautiful lines, “blending your legs with mine, sure and warm etc-
I hope your loved one appreciates it.