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

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

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