With the woods and the sea and
the children that light the path
what need we of words? What
antidote could we stomach
to join our hearts as they
rock side by side?
In this used-up city
of hot suffering and plucked bones,
where do we announce our vanished
devotion, to whom can we cry the
loss of moonlight and hope?
We sleep without the warm touch
of need. We sleep like mountains,
onto our own.
Copyright © 1997 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Inscribed Museum 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™.