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Raising Grace

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A child in a mother’s arms.

both dissolve in joy, freed into

the instinct of love as I watch bewildered

by such beauty.

 

This I hear

says farewell like all else

that seems immortal, that makes ripple

the human heart, perfecting

our inwardness.

 

Sister and brother, natural

friends that no obstacle could

burden beyond repair. Lovers too,

safe in a tender silence are able to

bear the weight of clouds.

 

Yet the rain does arrive, folding fists

of isolation around my heaven. Around the bend,

still breathing, listen to breath as if it was the only sound

not blurred by vagueness. Disconnected like

the sun is from the moon.

 

Then I see the mother and child hold

in perfect intimacy. And I place

my candle there, beside them, to be

influenced.

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Copyright © 1996 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Harvest”, 1996

 

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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“Allison’s poetic prose is insightful, enwrapping, illuminating and brutally truthful. It probes the nature of the human spirit, relationships, spirituality and God. It is sung as the clearest song is sung within a cathedral by choir. It is whispered as faintly as a heartbroken goodbye. It is alive with the life of a thousand birds in flight within the first glint of morning sun. It is as solemn as the sad-sung ballad of a noble death. Read at your peril. You will never look at this world in quite the same way again. Your eye will instinctively search the sky for eagles and scan the dark earth for the slightest movement of smallest ant, your heart will reach for tall mountains, bathe in the most intimate of passions and in the grain and grit of our earth. Such is Allison Grayhurst. Such is her poetry,”  Eric M. Vogt, poet and author.