Through the thick middle
where creepy things slither
is not red nor shades of brown,
but is sea-water blue
with an underbelly dense with life,
with squid, sharks and fluorescent jellyfish.
It is not rage, but a seeping dissatisfaction
that hooks my joints and sends me
it is in his wet hair, in his angry,
suffering brow. It is in his sad voice
on the phone, in his complex humour and primal body
I touch, but cannot hold.
Copyright © 2000 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.