I have made my prayers,

threw the disc and boiled

the water.


The wind is still

so I must be still.

When it moves, I will rise up

and move with it.


The stillness is not a coffin,

nor is it emptiness,

only a time of settling,

internal exploration

and four-wall refuge.


Plugged, unplugged,

a point of arrival and departure –

I will stay, listening like a small bird

is always listening, ready for flight,

ready to be initiated into a greater world

to match the poetry in my mind.


When I will move forward,

I have no clue, not yet.

That I will move forward is inevitable, so

I will not wrestle the quiet,

will not feel myself abandoned.


I hear a faint breeze moving

over there, over there.

I think I hear the first syllables

of my name.



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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