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No Transgressions

(starve the ego of its rights)

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The light that leaves,

that feeds the light that

leaves, speaks of scars

and childhood’s sanctity,

has grown weary in its search

for a source to continue brightly,

has slept out the potent night

and screams indecently for intimate

disclosure. The dance that strips

the tissue from the sinews, signals for the game

to end but does not end its rhythm or

burning – explosive flourishing – no facts

but a faucet drip drip curse to

hold down a half-a-dozen personalities

perched on your throne. The light, the light –

Who will win? The dance, the dance,

rattle and leak your soul into a theatrical

achievement – stand high in an age of distraction

and violence, stand rooted in the light,

matter most when you are dancing, even if

a malignant army invades

and prevails.

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Copyright © 2017 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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Frist published in “GloMag” October 2016

https://www.joomag.com/magazine/mag/0984187001476934077?feature=archive

glomagoct16

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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