The end is almost here,
rises like a blessing
like a storm, demanding
to go inside, hide and pray.
The end overthrows
the engrained pattern, arrests
the spread of illness and holds
the future like a tiny turtle in an egg,
struggling out of its shell.
The end is an escape route, a mind
losing consciousness, asking to be caught
before the body lands on unpolished
concrete floors, deprived of a buffer, asking
for a soft act of grace, a reminder
that love exists even under the executioner’s hood.
The end is happening like forgiveness happens,
a miracle stronger than duty and grief,
strongest of all efforts –
a clean slate, consolidating
each action, blanketing over
to and away from home.
Copyright © 2022 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Borderless Journal” May 2022
You can listen to the poem by clicking below: