Which Way?

Which Way?



        Blue I wondered

blue in summer in

the mornings, caught in

the snail-size tales of

futility and inevitable floods.

        Crooked boundaries, solid as

vapour, stung, trapped my fears

far from knowing the mercy of self-forgiveness.


I carried my purse like a stone, collected

empty wrappers, useless pens

and expired medicine,

burning always from head to foot,

impatient for change,

running into the concrete walls

of my collected fate.


Today, I look at the bloom of yellow flowers,

full in their last burst of joy before the frost,

and I am learning to drop that stone,

accept what lives and what cannot.


My bitterness has lost its vein to travel through,

forms and then corrodes.

Let others count their dollars

and covet extravagant houses.

I love my home like a trusted friend

and my garden is a portal into heaven

where the robin drinks and the mange-bitten squirrel

has made her home, digging, storing nuts.


Throats are cleared.

God’s giant voice has won

my full attention.

Switch me off. I am ready

to swim far into the ocean, fast

until my lungs burn, desperate for air.

There I will stop (the shoreline visible, but barely).

There I will wait for an answer, recover my breath and

decide – further out or back home.




Copyright © 2020 by Allison Grayhurst




First published in “Raven Cage Zine” August 2020


Issue 48

RavenCageZine48- August 2020



Published in “The Academy of The Heart and Mind” October 2020




You can listen to the poem by clicking below:




Leave a ReplyCancel reply