Full poem below:

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Far and Here

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Far from the small-talk daze

and this season I long to unload,

my hands are open

but numb from the cold.

My body turns the colour of moonlight

glowing, hollow, a thing only of reflection.

My last chance came and went.

Everywhere power escapes me

and the place I live is wrought with extremes,

incapable of toning down.

In the sandpit of my mind

the pit-patter of small feet

goes undetected – I hear only

the wail of those who fell by the gestures

of the corrupt and greedy.

I hear faint and desperate echoing

like spider-feet moving across a tongue.

I hear and I am listening to nothing else.

I am far from a solid core,

far from the plane ride to paradise,

far from the sodium dream,

but I am here

and here

I am looking around.

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Copyright © 2006 by Allison Grayhurst

 

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

 

Link to poem:

Far and Here