The Field is Open


The Field is Open



Going on, unable to order

a plot of land that is not a prison pen.

Monotony spreading, reflected in

nerve endings frantic with anxiety.

Repetitive motion, futility rises, and also that voice

that wants to turn even this into a ceremony,

but can’t, can’t stomach the steps, the one-by-one steps

of petty materialism that must be endured, focused

on, taken so seriously. Going on, like a torturous

continuance, swelling the mind with mealworm madness.

Going on, with no way out, a lifetime sentence,

a sorrow that has metastasised into despair.


Dig out, dig me out, let the miracle rise and cover

my home. Multiplying buds – at the entrance, entering,

side-stepping this sinister fate, slicing

the circle, cleared of the heavy shadows, cleared

to name a new street and walk down it.


Receiving like birds receive

music, breaking the ethereal framework,

dissolving the rut grime delusion,

peeking over the top, peace

taken into the mouth, peace

that is grace, that is receiving,

fastened freely to the flow.



 © 2018 by Allison Grayhurst



Published in “Outlaw Poetry” May 2018

The Field is Open by Allison Grayhurst



You can listen to the poem by clicking below:






Leave a ReplyCancel reply