For twelve years

without a word.

Holed up in rented rooms,

head buried in bug-infested beds,

tracing the cracks on the walls.

Nights of circling the executioner, trying to find

some sympathy inside his corroded eyes

but never finding the radiant solidity of sculpture,

only finding intangible corners to hide in, bide your time

in and anxiously explore. You were sobbing,

unmedicated, from country to town, learning new

languages, living off the charity of Queens.

How did you make it, hammered every day

by the troops of torture and captivity? Everyday,

without antidote? I love you here. Does that love count,

to you, dead long before I was born? It must

help, transcending gravity and logic. It must mean

something – I to you as you to me –


my brave  my heavy




Copyright © 2011 by Allison Grayhurst

Walkways cover 2


First published in “Collective Exile”


You can listen to the poem by clicking below:


“Her (Allison Grayhurst’s) poetry appears visceral, not for the faint of heart, and moves forward with a dynamism, with a frenetic pulse. If you seek the truth, the physical blood and bones, then, by all means, open the world into which we were all born,” Anne Burke, poet, regional representative for Alberta on the League of Canadian Poets’ Council, and chair of the Feminist Caucus.

“What a treasure Allison Grayhurst is. Her gift? To unfold for us life at this intensity of feeling and revelation. Who knew truth and beauty could be so intertwined and so passionate?,” Taylor Jane Green BA, RIHR, CH, Registered Holistic Talk Therapist, and author of Swan Wheeler: A North American Mythology, Swan – A Planetary Mythology, and The Rise of Eros, 2014.



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