Full poem below:
Far and Here
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
I am looking around.
Copyright © 2006 by Allison Grayhurst
You can listen to the poem by clicking below:
Link to poem: