Continue dreamer, down the halls,

through the citadel,

gather wings in your arms – small ones,

medium ones, feathered and translucent.


Follow the mini-current across the line,

then rush through forbidden lands,

drop those wings and wave your arms,

sing loud, sing ugly – nothing is a branch

that can’t be broken, nothing is a swing

that can’t be stilled.


Far away, in the ocean’s depths

there is no visible sun,

no use for warmth or a changing horizon.

The bird is condemned

in those depths and your voice

is just a bubble.


Rush to the edge of the shore

and decide your fate, glittering surface all aglow,

confined on land or in the water?

Take a step forward or

turn around, commit absolutely

and move.


Continue dreamer, down the halls,

listen to the warnings,

swallow them into your gut and

test your courage,

gather those wings and rush.




Copyright © 2020 by Allison Grayhurst



First published in “Medusa’s Kitchen” September 2020




You can listen to the poem by clicking below:


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