I have this day to carry

like a large stone or like

a child.

I can whisper my grievances

to the pockets of clouds

in an otherwise clear sky

or I can make pictures with them

in my mind, be seduced

by their wispy ever-changing boundaries,

divulging the shapes of creatures

I can’t even name, or branches

extending to the edge of the sun.


I can take these last days of freedom

and deliver them to the bitter hunter

before their time or I can hold myself

proper, mortal, clothed in only the day, sober,

bound by neither inevitability nor expectation.


The day has many appendages, tricks and snares.

It is a matter of riding clear, slightly raised

above the ground, able to glide

like in the dream I often have, above the bubble,

sometimes above the trees, moving natural,

past obstacles and footholds, just enjoying the breeze,

the ease of a steady self-directed pace,

and even stopping for meals,

leashed to necessity as I glide,

as I hold a rock, a rose

in either hand.



Copyright © 2021 by Allison Grayhurst



First published in “Impspired – Issue 10 and print anthology Volume 5” April/May 2021

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Published in “Synchronized Chaos” April 2021

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You can listen to this poem by clicking the link below:

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