Stream of Dark Nectar


Stream of Dark Nectar



It does not end today, in the morning, in

these sapling hours of blissful solitude.

It could end and be a bone, dried and crushed

by the pressure of circumstance – but the

veil has lifted. Jesus speaks his anarchy

and raises the grass strands, blooms the flowers, swiftly,

miraculously with perfect sense before my eyes. King

of time and gravity – the weather listens to him, the water,

coins and food all bend to his majesty and authority.

I watch this like I would a landscape sunsetting sky,

vast across forever and wide as the sea. 


Cards are in my hands,

they have living pictures, moving in sacred gestures,

gathering force, corresponding with bird conversations,

rising in crescendo, defending in their equal chaos

and innate harmony. One tree opens its branches.

One child remains.


This morning I see upright, shed

what was never mine to own.

Jesus is near like the beauty of eternity, sitting

across from me, touching my knees then holding my hands.

Power that is peaceful and velvety soft as it is

a black hole of mystery, infinity contained.

This morning God is strongest,

cutting the threads of mortal memories, leaving

only the imperishable wind.



© 2018 by Allison Grayhurst




Published in “Setu” February 2018




Published in “The 13 Alphabet – Magazine” February 2018


Published in “On Possibility: Poems and Poetry” February 2018



You can listen to the poem by clicking below:



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