The ninth vortex,
a cylinder, funnelling
the puss from the unhealable wound.
A point of Juno – tell me,
you are drowning.
Your throat is tight, but your body
is hoping. There is no pain you
can give that will reduce me because
I am safe in the pain, and not destroyed.
But the harshness that eats the colour from
your eyes is consuming a part of me too.
I blend with the stone. I die in the shrubbery
of your fear. So long, winged-worm.
So long, wind that dust clouds my ground.
I am ripe for renewal.
I am solo – past you, past death –
planting light where once
there was only blindness.
Copyright © 2006 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Kritya”
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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.