The Gift


The Gift


In love like the buffalo is with

its herd, like the fingers with the

hand, like the fish with its translucent tail.

One dish I swallowed of hope

and resurrection. One morning

I held his rock that crushed all other

rocks before. I crawled to the edge

he asked, and understood eternity.

One morning he rippled inside me

like a living storm, and I knew love like food.

My hunger was beaten by his picnic.

The pond that was his cup,

drenched my being in the tender flesh of God.

For one morning I found my good soil,

and I will live for always now,

cleaving close, like to a first kiss,

that graced filled day.



Copyright © 2000 by Allison Grayhurst




.First published in “the chicago record magazine” August 2015

the chicago record 1the chicago record the giftthe chicago record 2


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.



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