I am tackling my circumstances

void of myth or the fallacy

of wishes.

I am trying to see straight even

if I must murder my own liberty,

harpoon my freedom and go under.


I see the road but I cannot

take the road if it leaves my loved ones

in jeopardy – parachute strings cut, plane

door open at high altitude.

I must go back, ache all over, unable

to sleep or find a resting position

without pain. Unless


supplies arrive, compassion comes and strips me

of this brutal incremental starvation and I can

stand unencumbered by such a load, unashamed

of my joy – no void of doom slicing through

my budding strength.




Copyright © 2022 by Allison Grayhurst



First published in “Borderless Journal” May 2022

 Poetry by Allison Grayhurst


You can listen to the poem by clicking below:


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