Sideways into the thicket

prickly roar, eyelids closed

and then a decade later, a sunbeam

latches to your arm and pulls you out,

renews your skin, the tone of your hair.

       A decade lost without a voice, without

connection to your core.

       Here you stride, hardly limping,

a queen, tall, sure of your kinship,

sometimes still weakened by past sentimentality,

but mostly remembering

the promise to you that was made on the swing

when you swung high as the swing could carry you –

your childhood legs gleefully kicking, your long hair

behind you, and a smile that was more glorious

than the first spotted spring flower.

       Whole again, set upright,

shedding the last of your apprehension,

growing deeper into maturity,

letting the shadows go, as the nectar pours

sweet all around you.



Copyright © 2022 by Allison Grayhurst



First published in “Synchronized Chaos” May 2022



You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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