By myself, I was deceived,
led by a false enthusiasm
of generosity that fizzled out
when reality made its claim.
Devotion is rare, even rarer
is the true gift given,
void of expectation
on the receiver.
Faith is holding emptiness with God,
a fountain that recycles its flow, continuously.
Jesus is a shock
out of human nature into God’s nature.
Jesus is a higher level of heaven revealed,
but hard to keep the veil open when the world restricts,
presses down with its laws, telling us otherwise.
I see a house.
we will enter that house.
In that house,
food and love will be abundant.
In this house, we will be invited,
where the walls have a pulse,
a warm blood rhythm.
From this house
we will witness a smiling flock of geese overhead,
crying out a simultaneous song, crying out
with such vitality it usurps then transforms
the dark familiar, absolving our debts
with that song, along with every other bond
embroidered to our skin that made us weep
from their inexorable weight and prophecy.
Copyright © 2021 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Raven Cage Zine” March 2021
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