Pregnant After a Death
I kneel for you, for the small
flower unnamed. Within
where apple trees never grow, another
fire catches. I dream of toadstools
and my father’s dark warm eyes. I call
you my literature, my sweetest harvest.
And my husband and I, we make notes
in the mirror, we go shopping, holding hands.
We talk of you like a morning glory, we smell the spring
and are proud. We begin to know you
like a separate constellation, like someone
entwined by all these loving riches.
God has taken and now gives, letting
the tears and this blessing take equal hold.
Copyright © 2000 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Think Pink, Issue 2” Pink.Girl.Ink. Press, May 2015
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.
Reblogged this on The Militant Negro™.