Unwed from heritage,
for the tie of tradition is darkness,
and the price in the folly of lineage,
is a line to cross, to be born into
but never earned.
Sink or swim in your history,
families are special
like all families are special, like
all cultures are beauty mingled with cruelty –
things that hardened into meaningless rock
and things that are allowed to move
and keep their lifeforce.
Be born like a new babe,
eyes set on only mother-father God,
don’t carry the price and the agony of your blood
that is only blood, not spiritual, and only mighty in illusion
by you ordaining it so.
Belong nowhere and hold that freedom
that is hard to own and is immediate
as a mountain is
or a rainstorm.
Race with the wind, lighten the burden,
bathe in a burst of ever-fresh glory,
toeing the line for no one – release
all wounds and accolades
of what you claim as your own
but where and who you’ve never been –
If past lives are real, then belong to every
race, every culture, every species.
Once we were all fish, so
Copyright © 2020 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Rasa Literary Review, Issue 1” October 2020
You can listen to the poem by clicking below: