Eight Months


Eight Months


This grief stalled in my throat

rises in small amounts

like a split seed moving from

earth to air.

I remember a warm protection

that I will never again know,

or see the fireworks of his grounded mind

fill the atmosphere with so much colour.

Time is like the moon in summer,

not so real when seen beside the day’s strong sun.

But in winter, the moon is explanation –

is the weaving thread of barren understanding.

I think he must be near, after all

the wound still flows. Today eight months

have gone, and all my old hopes are altered

though renewed. I have nothing to give him,

no telephone declaration can I make in the passion

of true gratitude, or say why? to his passing shadow.

There is only this I am left with –

this sting of still raw shock, and all the memories

my love can hold.



Copyright © 2000 by Allison Grayhurst




Published in “Eskimo Pie” May 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.



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