Let The Joy In
What you gave at an age
when you thought thievery was long dispelled.
What was given back was cold and hard as a stone
in wintertime, betrayal without audition,
Click the door, be sure in your sunshine –
what was lost was never had – purity
and courage were not on the agenda, never
graced the soul of one so cruel. Show your
sword and cut the toxin from your torso,
look into its eyes and then be done with it forever.
There is no need to understand why,
no benefit in an explanation. Everything is choice.
You chose to lie on the field so Christ
would lay hands on you in your torment.
You chose the meditation floor,
symbols to support your painful transformation.
Everything else is small. The past is small.
The grave is small. Only love survives and what is not love
has no place in your beautiful heart.
What isn’t love, never breathed to begin with.
You need no protection. You need only
what you have.
Copyright © 2006 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Bewildering Stories”
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.
Beautiful, Allison. You traverse such long corridors, probing to ponder over possibilities, touching your way to the sunshine. Souls searched as such are sacred soil, sanctuaries of thought and Edens to the eye. E
Just the thing i needed to read today. Thanks
Reblogged this on The ObamaCrat™.