Through the girdle

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Through the girdle

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of mute despair where love

is murdered by a flying breath,

and old age is a house that never opens,

the key was around your neck

and suddenly, you were gone.

Paint bubbles over into

the killing flame. You were stern, yet

so in love with smooth dimensions.

It was our time as I took your arm while we

walked in the icy winter of the forest floor,

watching animals from your cabin window

and feeding the frightened cats.

My pain is newborn but like a boomerang, it is

released over the roaring lake where gulls

descend into the wet pillow of their grave.

How many times I thought you loved me, but

I never knew for certain. I sent you a card

declaring you as my mentor, and how strange

this tree bloomed. Goodbye sweet friend, bride

of nature, spiritual as a weathered stone.

Your visions will always grace my walls,

and tomorrow and tomorrow your memory

will help me to harvest the light

as I grow old.

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Copyright © 2002 by Allison Grayhurst

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amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “LiteraryYard” September 2015

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Poem: Through the girdle

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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“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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One response to “Through the girdle

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