I reached across the riddle-barrier,
shaved my head and walked through the door.
I took my clothes out of the closet
and burned them,
I watched the light dim all around
and walked over a cliff.
I did this without a choice, only a decision
to embrace a movement forward.
I was commanded to do this, and I consented,
not without struggle and self-loathing,
not without fear and a sense of deep failure.
Now I am falling, I am in the air, eagle-spread,
a sharp pain in my side and the wind whistling
Everything people do
is bound to kill them eventually.
Take dancing or bricklaying or being a mother.
I am still falling, I have not landed
in someone’s arms nor on the sharp rocky bottom.
The pain remains, so does the wonder,
as I fall, falling,
Copyright © 2020 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Madness Muse Press” August 2020
Three Poems by Allison Grayhurst
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