It runs away to the room
where nothing moves, not from dying
not from finding its joy.
It was warm, but is now harmed
and drenched in grief like a child too broken
to speak or dream
It breaks the base of my heel,
preventing a hope-filled dance. It knows me
in the afternoon, stealing the smoke from my ribs,
the hunger from my muscles and the flesh
from my gender.
It circles me at night like an eastern cloud,
cutting the black with its grey, changing the words
in my dictionary, spilling my love in unnatural oil.
It is my creature to contend with, the armour
I have been sworn to carry,
a twist in the brain that has me soiled, taking cover
in its inhospitable hovel.
Copyright © 2006 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Agave Magazine” Volume 2, Issue 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.