The Faintest Breath of Love
is Enough to Save Me
Inside the box the lid
was pushed up, lifted, pulling out
the weight of darkness, filling
the space with air – fresh as a
blooming sunflower, gathering the
bumble bee and Eastern Grey squirrel.
Without warning the stem snapped,
an essential survival line severed from its source.
The bee and squirrel moved on,
as I must move on, clean up dead stems, petals and seeds,
rest on the front steps, put the debris in the box and bury it
in the same place where
the sunflower once stretched half way to the roof.
I must be brave without beauty to strengthen me,
free of myth and poetic attachments, mingle with
the nest-makers, the earth-foragers, satiate in the present
and tremble with glory, breathing better in spite of decay,
disease and the loss of sustenance.
Light the box on fire before I bury it.
Bury it while it is burning. Bury it, burning…
holy is this, holy is that,
dream it now
and it will be over, it will be mine.
© 2018 by Allison Grayhurst
Published in “GloMag” March 2018
Published in “Outlaw Poetry” March 2018
You can listen to the poem by clicking below: