I Do Not Try To Understand
Wear the wind, my flesh is round
but so easy to cut.
By the glow of a fallen tribe
someone touched my name
and sent me drifting.
From the child I learn of laughter
in the morning. Because
there is a secret growing within
though the weight has not yet started,
I count myself internal and need even less
from the world.
Praise the dark and the insect’s back.
Make room for the newborn to rise.
Look, the doves are drenched in rain.
Copyright © 2004 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Imaginary Conversations Lit Page”, November 2015
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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.