Am I to speak of the hangnail pain,
though no season was lost and there
are no backstairs to climb?
Am I to miss you in the garden
we never had, in the memories
of never being close but always
And the time you ran frightened of me
through the alleyways, as though we never loved,
never knew the trust of wounds
we helped each other heal. Never you
wanting more than to maintain
your dignity, your freedom, your
contemplative stare. Never you
giving more than the most
of your compassion, the gentle restraint
of your excited spirit.
And to die like that,
killing the final cord. Stinging slowly, so slow
it’s hard to cry, to not wish one last swim with you
under the fullmoon just staring
forever into that small-town sky.
Copyright © 1997 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Novelmasters” July 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™.