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Wingbeats
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I could tell you
never close your eyes
it is us
and us only
who carry the iron
and dismiss ourselves from the cross
Where is home?
Can you answer me
in this month of sensuous summer?
When we love
is it enough
to entice the dead from their settled sleep?
I once heard the sound of pain
in an old man’s voice
It was real
the magic of song
milk from a mother’s swollen breast
the authentic desire
for union
Every vineyard
has its legend
Every someone
wanders protected and important
in this long age of insanity
Nearly all dancers
have hesitated,
felt their passions, suspicious
unnatural impulses
depleting their strength
But so –
heaven is not a womb
nor a winter’s twilight
intense but brief
I once saw a golden eagle
repeat its wingbeats
alone in the breeze
flapping
as if to say:
I know myself
completely.
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Copyright © 1989 by Allison Grayhurst
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Joshua’s Shoulder was published in 1989 by The Plowman, written by Allison Grayhurst under the pseudonym of Jocelyn Kain.
amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst
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Published in “Sacred Chickens” August 2017
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First published in “The Plowman: A Journal of International Poetry” 1989
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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
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“Rich images and complex, shifting metaphors drive Allison Grayhurst’s poems. She focuses on sexual love and interior landscapes, widening to include the heart, eternity and all.” – Next Exit
“Grayhurst’s rapturous outpouring of imagery makes her poems easily enjoyable … Like a sear the poet seeks to fathom sensual and spiritual experience through the images of a dream.” Canadian Literature
“Allison Grayhurst is a poet whose work is characterized by startling imagery and uncompromising emotion, whose pieces have appeared in prestigious magazines. Lights, darks, colors, and passions intertwine throughout the pages of her work,” – Louise E. Allin, Literature and Language
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This is lovely. It has shades of Dylan Thomas, and believe me that is a compliment.
🙂
“Every someone
wanders protected and important
in this long age of insanity”
A wonderful piece/ through & through
so beautiful.. 🙂
Your poem has uniformly short lines which cleverly mimic the wingbeat rhythm suggested by your title.