Gentle Flo of the
does not sing
nor look for
comfort from the sky.
Mother of patience and playful
as moonlight upon a wave. Face
like a roadmap of a sad
primeval journey. Sad
like the first thoughts
of wasted love. Sad
like the night jungle in all its
Cry for the terrible loss
in the midday rains. Cry for the African
trees, rotting from the weight of
a human-made world.
Shaggy arms embrace
to receive your large-heart’s manna.
The lonely climate
with child, near a river that carries
the many deaths of those before
your wild and doubtless
Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst
Published in “The Furious Gazelle” December 2017
First published in “Synchronized Chaos” August 2017
Synchronized Chaos August 2017: The Stories We Tell Ourselves
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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