Looking At Pictures
No darkness falls on the wasted hour,
only the drip drip drip of the faucet
and images of more enriching days.
The sky tells all
and I fear the thinning of my bones
and toenails too hard to cut.
I fear this weakness in my lungs
like a subtle beast devouring the best
of all I can give.
I see the yellow-haired children
playing in the sand and know my
fortune is sealed with love.
But still the walls are wet
with spilled coffee
as I think of the dead, and everyday I feel
a feverish sorrow overtaking
their watching eyes.
Copyright © 2004 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Gossamer Poetry 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.