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Miles Without Grace

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With October gone

and cold cascading

over church steps,

stiffening the wings of

butterflies and hawks

a new dream raves

with October gone.

 

Falling clouds, falling shadows

into the heart-nests

into the white morning flame.

 

Only these things of faith won’t die,

only the skulls, the bronze soldiers

and the garden clocks live and knock

imagination loose.

 

Midnight on the stairs. A hard

bow and chain. And the brown-eyed

children laughing in the afternoon.

 

Death does not bow.

It is wood and nightingale cry.

 

I carry him with me

in my knapsack memories

and in the inside, whole and as

gentle as a ghost gliding over

 

the earth

and seas.

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Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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Published in “The Peregrine Muse” July 2017

https://sites.google.com/site/theperegrinemuseii/home/grayhurst

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First published in “Pawn Press”  1994

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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“Somewhere Falling has a richness of imagery and an intensity of emotion rare in contemporary poetry. Drawn in sharp outlines of light and darkness, and rich shades of colour, with a deep sense of loss and longing and the possibility of salvation, this is an unusual book by a gifted young poet. Grayhurst’s voice is one to which we should continue to pay attention.” — Maggie Helwig, author of Apocalypse Jazz and Eating Glass.

“Responsibility and passion don’t often go together, especially in the work of a young poet. Allison Grayhurst combines them in audacious ways. Somewhere Falling is a grave, yet sensuous book.” – Mark Abley, author of Glasburyon and Blue Sand, Blue Moon.

“Biting into the clouds and bones of desire and devotion, love and grief, Allison Grayhurst basks the reader, with breathtaking eloquence, in an elixir of words. Like lace, the elegance is revealed by what isn’t said. This is stunning poetry.” – Angela Hryniuk, author of no visual scars.

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