I Know That


I Know That


              I know that faith

ebbs and flows, sometimes

larger, then hardly there

at all.

              I know my faith

is often all I own,

though barely visible,

crushed under

the world’s forearm.

              I know to sing and that singing

can be freedom no matter

the crack and heel.

              I know to love

for love is what remains

when nothing else renews.

              I know to pray like breathing.

              I know there is forgiveness

for what I fail to do,

and mercy is there for me to receive

like water.



Copyright © 2004 by Allison Grayhurst





First published in “The Write Room”

The Write Room 7The Write Room 8The Write Room 9



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.



4 responses to “I Know That

  1. What a wonderful prayer to read on Easter morning! No matter what faith tradition anyone might follow. The two poems I’ve read today, Allison, are as clear and fresh as water tumbling over stones out of the San Juan Mountains in a place Ethel and I like to go not far from Durango, Colorado. I believe I achieved that same clarity in my sonnets about the experience we went through when our son died, and Ethel achieves that more often than not, but I want to notice it in your poetry. Achieving that clarity is as difficult as any other task a writer might take during that lifetime. It is not a necessary component of poetry. The puzzles spun out by Jim Heinz, ExtraSimilie, have their place in the body of poetry as do more complex poems that are not as challenging as those done by Jim. You are a true poet, as is Anna Mark and a few others posting on wordpress. These two poems are worth celebrating, although the truth is that much of what you write is worth celebrating.


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