I am dropped into evening’s glory
beside you, relieved of cunning, anxiety,
at peace with the dried nest cupping a crushed egg.
it is forward
and the wind that is wild is on my side
gathering forces to aid in my direction.
I am single, cloaked in
a dazzling and lush solitude, plump
at the core.
Roots are wings and those wings
never suffer fractures or deformities
but are final in their perfection.
I ask for just enough
to be guided from my prison cell
to build a lasting fire and have food
for my children.
I know I am loved
and those times are the best times –
infinite voices to chose from, colours
everywhere and heaven tangible,
inside my sheltering home.
Copyright © 2020 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Trouvaille Review” August 2020
You can listen to the poem by clicking below: