Down The Rusted Needle
Down the rusted needle
into a work of art –
fast-paced, missed out on
the joy of nothing to do.
The eyes as sharp as the nerves,
performing surgery on every detail.
A million white feathers
tipped the scale, and babies only panic
for lack of love as does
the most hardened of us all.
Needing some absolutes like
“destiny” and God’s voice sure
inside my head. Needing to feel
that this ghetto of closed dreams
is just me reeling in my cowardice –
an unacclaimed somebody.
But to wait on the telephone or TV or some
future killed-anguish in this place where nothing blows
nor ceases to burn is like a decade with no holiday or
a cracked egg on the lawn.
But to try and try not to envy the for-sure catastrophe,
the happy Amen or someone young
who has overstepped the madness.
Copyright © 2002 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “1947: a literary journal” May 2017
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“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.