Blank, solid, dependable
on the surface, without a flaw.
But after the end result, when the day
has paid its dues, chaos fractures
the spine, enters brightly and
consumes. Blessed once to receive.
Blessed twice to give, and in this way,
If blessed then honour the doing,
daily training the dread to feed in its cage,
remain content in its bonds, content and never
over-thriving. Take the hand
of infant peace and gently caress its fingers,
know it is fragile and demands
great care and attention,
know you are blessed, and be diligent
in your offerings and your praise.
Copyright © 2017 by Allison Grayhurst
Published in “Episteme, Volume 5, Issue 3” December 2016
You can listen to the poem by clicking below: