Faltering in this season
on the hook like a sandpiper
never sure when the mountain stops
or if my sedentary position
is really a bird in my hand
or a dream I cannot force.
Where I crawl from ignorance
and dry despair, my mouth is finished
with kissing, finished with speaking
its voice of obscure ecstasy.
Because it is finished, it is night
and my plight is solitude.
I have lost my home
and clothes of wild colours.
I have lost and cannot gain
a chance to govern the crowd within.
My foliage is painted. My sun is slaughtered,
but still so much heat remains.
Copyright © 2006 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Clockwise Cat, Issue 31, Clockcat Orange Spring/Summer 2015”, June 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™.