When the last tie is broken


When the last tie is broken


and no mentor remains to walk

my hands through the mystery of clay,

and I am hit again by another sorrow,

losing one who has guided my eyes into seeing

a new, irrevocable way,

then the day will expose my passion and test

its worthiness. Then I will be called to answer

on my own and believe in the truth of my dedication.


To shape, to shadow and the sensual magic

that is sometimes caught in timeless moments

oblivious to thought, like walking within

a beautiful breeze and smelling the life inside

all the tiny animals. Like being at the place where

water and earth are like fingers massaging mud

into a vision – a weight

unattainable to the cerebral mind.



Copyright © 2000 by Allison Grayhurst




First published in “Ann Arbor Review”, 2012

Ann Arbor Review 4Ann Arbor Review 1Ann Arbor Review 2Ann Arbor Review Last TieAnn Arbor Review 3



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.



3 responses to “When the last tie is broken

  1. …timeless moments oblivious to thought…Like being at the place where

    water and earth are like fingers massaging mud

    into a vision – a weight

    unattainable to the cerebral mind

    These are beautiful descriptions. I think they are describing faith or belief, and the mystery of forming and being and creating.


  2. Pingback: Two poems published in Ann Arbor Review | Allison Grayhurst

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