No grief, No madness
See yourself with real eyes,
there is no need for useless mythology.
The winter has come, the plants have died.
In spring they will take root and begin
to show promise. Just like you,
nothing magical –
You swell in times of joy
and deflate in times of sorrow,
stitching the inflatable boat.
This is your seat, accept it.
The struggle is the dream,
a hot order of suffering, unnecessary.
Stand up, kiss the Buddha and sit down.
Copyright © 2021 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Litterateur” March 2021
Published in “Dumpster Fire Press and Voices from the Fire Anthology” April 2021
Published in “Chicago Record Magazine” March 2021
You can listen to this poem by clicking the link below: