The stone drops,
settles in the sand like a beetle.
for lack of trying.
Children wait like they
to be made a priority.
The sun is swollen and breaking
on the crust of the universe.
A fairytale in a box, barely opened,
but already stronger than reality.
A last chance stored-up for
People are falling,
glass doors are ajar.
Someone is listening but no one
That stone drops,
it is made up of hard,
and the surface
is its meaning.
Copyright © 2006 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “B-Gina Review”
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.