All one child
Long and a lot, fractures of time,
stretching steam-dust through
veins, fissures of luminosity.
Finally able to slice the pie,
embrace my priorities, understand what
sustains the veneer.
Kaleidoscope beating, beeping
a pulsar note of radiant birth, a
lifespan thinning, making new.
In my mind, complexities are exposed
in synergetic symmetrical beauty, bi-polar displays,
precision across solar systems –
a sidewalk chalk drawing.
Approaching revelation – a reincarnation-past
I am able to re-own without apology, without
demeaning my feminine front.
And up in the stringy multitude infra-ray arms,
vocal as a heartbeat under sinews,
I crack like a seed gnawed by a rodent’s teeth,
and then I grow.
to build ecstasy’s garden, grow
a rose – a scent on my neck,
under unshaven arms.
Grow until you own me,
call me out and let be a giant,
let me see the colliding galaxies I came from,
to stamp my name across nebulas,
collecting heat, mass, potency.
Grow until I am formed –
millennium still, erupting
Copyright © 2015 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “The Otter, June/July 2015” June 2015
Published in “WritingRaw” July 2015
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.