The wound is the wall
that gelds your desire,
prevents the granting
of your destiny –
holder of many secrets, entrusted with
genius vitality, and your mind
leaping into the sacred fires,
emerging with a discovered vocabulary,
a fruit-heavy tree at your disposal, giver
of never-ending nutrients, navigating
a route to the divine.
The wound is the wall,
is nothing in comparison to your offering,
is a miniscule overcoming.
When you know that
you will have arrived on the other side –
the floodgates will open, your great light
will engulf the city, countries, and hearts
of many different flavours.
The wound was the wall
was part of your strength, a glass
to drink from and describe its taste.
A new proclamation
is on the table, telling you
to walk through, accept
your innate purified power,
be received, be recognized.
Copyright © 2021 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Synchronized Chaos” April 2021
You can listen to this poem by clicking the link below: