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:

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