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What Hands Can Hold
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I will not cry today
the teardrops of saints.
Tomorrow I will not
lay my body flat on the road
for the dove’s passing.
God’s features
are vast as the sands.
No life is dead
to private dreams.
The sea sings its own
rhyming fury.
The eagle takes dust and wind
equally
under its wings.
Who feeds the raging
lion’s mouth?
Who weeps for the insect’s accidental
death? Are the angels too great for
these? And our human hands,
are they too meager to
accept these small mercies,
these common miracles,
as we watch friends perish
and the pendulum-tides leap
and devour,
offering no reward
to the drowned
nor saved?
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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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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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A classic. One of my favorite. Peaceful, brilliant in its beauty.