I have made my prayers,
threw the disc and boiled
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,
and four-wall refuge.
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
You can listen to this poem by clicking the link below: