I smelled the afterglow
of these tricky toys
that bent the branches low
and drove the dreams from my eyes.
I saw you sitting, curled up in pain
and singing low of things that had no name.
I know the answer’s blank as a January sky
and the lights that flicker
from door to door are not for me to understand.
I felt a paleness in my hands –
my fingers were worms, struggling out from
the hardened earth. Being alone is like a window
looking out. And guilt is good as the first step
then stops you from taking anymore. I am a rider on
a rocking horse. I caressed the edge too many times.
The curtain is open but nothing new walks by: Love,
love, it has to keep on . . .
Copyright © 2004 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “The Write Room”
Published in “Boston Poetry Magazine”
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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.