There are names

.

There are names

 .

and allegiances that triumph

when spoken aloud. I do not speak

these sounds or have a country

that edges near ecstasy. I have loved badly,

pessimistic, fostered a hostile vacancy

of fantastical hope. Insolent towards God

and the steady rapture that only comes with patience,

I purchased an industry that leaves no mark,

makes nothing useful

or sweet.

 

Remembering my waxed-leaf collection held

within hard cover books, and the frolicking of field mice

that burrowed patterns into my head. I sat on the bus and

I was alone. Did I know how fragile sanity was, unlocking

doors, imagining mountains on the surface of the sun?

 

Snared before my shelter broke

and I could be saved by surrender.

A thicket of needles and bushes trembling with little birds.

Contact. Glint.

Won’t something rush at me, increase my odds?

 

I could send you away, then I could live

cold, complete as a reed or as an angel.

Science will not have me. You will not let me go.

 

Remembering seashells wrapped in tissue paper, in a box,

on a shelf, just above the closet floor, counting them –

rough external even ridges, glassy sheen empty pocket inside.

.

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.Copyright  © 2012 by Allison Grayhurst

BookCoverPreview

Currents - pastlife poems cover 4

BookCoverImage Allison GrayhurstTrial and Witness print back cover

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

First published in “River Poets Journal, Volume 8, Issue 3”, 2014

River Poets journal 1River Poets journal 2River Poets journal 3River Poets journal 4River Poets journal 5River Poets journal 6

http://www.riverpoetsjournal.com/RiverPoetsJournalPDFfiles.html

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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.

“Grayhurst is a great Canadian poet. All of Allison Grayhurst’s poetry is original, sometimes startling, and more often than not, powerful. Anyone who loves modern poetry that does not follow the common path will find Grayhurst complex, insightful, and as good a poet as anyone writing in the world today. Grayhurst’s poetry volumes are highly, highly recommended,” Tom Davis, poet, novelist and educator.
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2 responses to “There are names

  1. Stunning insights articulated with precision. Twists and turns of perspective. Creaking, and then with the crack of a whip, a crack of light thunders through.

    “I have loved badly,
    pessimistic”

    “the steady rapture that only comes with patience”

    “I sat on the bus and I was alone.
    Did I know how fragile sanity was”

    The power of intention and speaking it aloud.
    This is a mainstay of my spiritual growth practice:

    “There are names.
    and allegiances that triumph
    when spoken aloud.”

    This is where I so beautifully am right now – learning sweet surrender. Listening with focused intent, and the intention to follow the inspired action:

    “before my shelter broke
    and I could be saved by surrender”

    Like

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