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: