It is your calling,
your call to mend what has been undone.
It is your age of darkness that must move
into a renaissance, your murder of reality,
claiming a fantasy for a home,
tangible at last as this grief has been.
You are stubborn, stronger than the grave, noticing
the track has ended, but continuing just the same.
I can’t be that strong, not now with the desert thieves
of anxiety circling nearer. I can’t listen to your valour
or even hold out my hand.
But time is blind to the baggage of yesteryears.
It is always seeing for the first time,
unblemished by dues, tolls
and sometimes prayers.
Our time is what it is – a tower made of mirrors
where the dead and not-so-dead
leave a lasting impression.
It is your open season, though, for now,
I have lost my trail to follow.
Copyright © 2010 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Temporary Lunatic Literary Zine” November 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™.