I begin a new line of music
to hold the frameless parable.
The room is there
where the field mice nested,
where the insect broke its wing
and still found a way to fly.
Points of power on my walls,
scents in my basement,
a bread basket in my hands.
My wholeness increases, months after he has been gone.
I breathe out my fear and listen to the sounds falling
like flowers, watch the butterfly
darting past the bus shelter, beautiful among grey matter
and Monday faces.
Mythical are the letters of his name saying goodbye,
saying the past is gone and this day belongs
where it is.
Copyright © 2010 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “The Miscreant” February 2017
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.