Lost in a Garden


Lost in a Garden



        Subjugated, they seduced your ego,

abducted your history

until nothing remained but a gap,

a secret left too long untold.

You have a face, a bed to lay

your death mask and examine

the tears that slip

from that counterfeit depth.

Morning is vivid, it attacks you

with its beauty, but you are stitched

together by pale craftsmen who know their trade

is narrow.


        If only the years would end with a final blow,

then you could rid yourself of

that blunt nameless ache,

too rare to resurrect

into symbolic meaning.

        On the back of the moon,

you let the vision go

for a prize that had no gain.

They came to you with soft sighs that belittled freedom.

You believed: A fool

who knew the souls of each and every star

then stooped to touch the Earth

in all its pointless fury.

        All is private. Your confessional

hands will disappear.

They need you now to smile

in spite of your personal storm.

        Do not despair. Heal.

You know whose side you’re on.



Copyright © 1991 by Allison Grayhurst





Published in “Ygdrasil – A Journal of the Poetic Arts” July 2018

Ygdrasil, July 2018-1807


Click to access Y-1807.pdf


Published in “Academy of the Heart and Mind” 2018




You can listen to the poem by clicking below:



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