Lighthouse gone under
At the end of a dream, after the burning down,
is a sorrow, there and fixed
like a blockage to ensure failure of the flow
like a broken pipe,
letting flood the lighthouse tower.
It will drown the lighthouse,
even the tip and the ancient bricks below.
And in sinking and dispersing its form
under the water’s pressure it will make a coral bed
for otherwise homeless creatures.
It will make an underwater greenhouse, a place for
tiny beings to hide, find shelter and explore.
It will go on longer down there, below the surface,
go on past decades, generations and nuclear explosions.
It will not be recognised for the tower and steady guiding light
it once held, but it will morph into a thriving community.
Its concrete flesh will grow breathing skin –
slippery green living follicles. It will endure
the winters above and the blank-eyed predators
maneuvering through its make-shift corridors.
This sorrow will take and it will be final.
And then it will give,
infusing a richer purpose, nurturing beating life
into the landscape of its shattered,
now restructured, bones.
© 2018 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “The Dope Fiend Daily” September 2018
You can listen to the poem by clicking below: