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Discovery

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Found like a rare insect

on my sleeve, I found

the bones of my past –

hard, violent, lonely, a communion with

my male pulse – concentrated as contained energy –

I was contained and not soft or sensual or sailing

a flexible (though no less intense) wave. I was among

the steel chains – thoughts of love but never experiencing love –

only lust and necessity, desire, then the denial of all

desire. Never myself, looking into the eyes of a child –

honest, relinquishing self-control, never

weeping or shattered, only clear as a war cry – no

harmony, no mirrors except to break and use to cut

through the neck of anything that threatened to hold me

captive. I was found – completely half of one thing and never

tilted. I was found, like something solid, thought to be

lost. So I trace the outline of my thighs, trace

the doubt I have in every dream and trace the trail

of burnt matter that has left a kaleidoscope pattern in my mind.

I close my eyes to find again the certainty of a tyrant,

to tune out all dilemmas, to be absolute (for just today)

as fire.

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Copyright © 2015 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

 

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First published in “Nazar Look, Year Five, Issue 44” September 2015

      

http://issuu.com/kirim-tatar-kitaplari/docs/nazar_look_44_online#download

http://www.nazar-look.com/

Nazar Look_44_Online

 

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.

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