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Too damaged to be renewed
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Broken sheep,
hybrids of birds
Was there anything of myself in
that greenhouse, the end-gone
and a warm kiss ensuing?
Was it purgatory – to sense love,
give all for love and find the bottom
turned over?
For nothing that I fell, that I gave twice
what I was capable of, thought of beauty in
trivial things, had a pool of joy to soak my innocence in.
The fish is dead, bloated with shadows – from where
the shape came from, I cannot understand. I do not
understand love or God or what I believed.
It was reflection, undisciplined over-the-top harming the heart
instead of fortifying it. In this world
of hooded Christs and tornados,
the predator wins and solitude is the only savior.
It cannot hold purity. It sometimes dances,
is sensual and thrives on owning
only
what is perpetually lacking.
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Copyright © 2015 by Allison Grayhurst
amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst
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Published in “Scarlet Leaf Review” April 2016
http://www.scarletleafreview.com/poems/previous/2
http://www.scarletleafreview.com/poems/allison-grayhurst-poems
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Click to access Make_the_Wind20160404Allison_Grayhurst.pdf
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http://scars.tv/cgi-bin/framesmain.pl?writers
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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
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“Grayhurst’s poetry is a translucent, ethereal dream in which words push through the fog, always searching, struggling, and reaching for the powerful soul at its heart. Her work is vibrant and shockingly original,” Beach Holme Publishers.
“Allison’s poetic prose is insightful, enwrapping, illuminating and brutally truthful. It probes the nature of the human spirit, relationships, spirituality and God. It is sung as the clearest song is sung within a cathedral by choir. It is whispered as faintly as a heartbroken goodbye. It is alive with the life of a thousand birds in flight within the first glint of morning sun. It is as solemn as the sad-sung ballad of a noble death. Read at your peril. You will never look at this world in quite the same way again. Your eye will instinctively search the sky for eagles and scan the dark earth for the slightest movement of smallest ant, your heart will reach for tall mountains, bathe in the most intimate of passions and in the grain and grit of our earth. Such is Allison Grayhurst. Such is her poetry,” Eric M. Vogt, poet and author.
“Grayhurst is a great Canadian poet. All of Allison Grayhurst’s poetry is original, sometimes startling, and more often than not, powerful. Anyone who loves modern poetry that does not follow the common path will find Grayhurst complex, insightful, and as good a poet as anyone writing in the world today. Grayhurst’s poetry volumes are highly, highly recommended,” Tom Davis, poet, novelist and educator.
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