The lights go off
with a loveless burn.
It’s not good,
dreaming together of the
It is us, & we are alone
tracing the dark-stoned
dancers. Our feet curve to the wind,
climb the laced clouds.
So sad this way down
into the cyclone twist & twine.
Long ago, we yearned for the triumphant glow,
when the thunderclap night
would lead us further into love’s sacred realm.
But tomorrow the snows will
fall and the hangers
will be empty.
Tomorrow there will be a single bed
& you & I will walk bare handed
on separate shores.
Copyright © 1997 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Pennine Platform”, 1997
You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
“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.