I saw the Face
I see what I take
and I circle back
nourishment into the stream,
wisdom of a kind that is just
thought, intention and striving.
Gaining mortal burdens, feelings
that last lifetimes, failures that
embed in the body like a blackhole
and draw everything into a calamity
of despair and senselessness.
We are shining, vessels that are brooms,
dishcloths, meant to clean, not accumulate.
I block the violence
of Self up against the world
and exchange it for
individuality before God,
peace that moves unexpectedly,
never still, never sure.
Love is nothing when alone.
I ask for healing for this unit, this tribe
of artists wandering,
trying to make our way through
poverty and loneliness, coming to terms with
things that perished that were
meant to bloom.
Take this family into your well-spring,
drench us in your everlasting waters.
We have no fashion or charm,
just us fitted together, sharing everything,
pierced by a sickness we cannot expel.
Expel it for us and fill the cavity
with your affluent efficient flow.
Make passages within that can be maintained,
built-upon, as we honour equally
the silver dollar, ancient ruins
and the blind alien fish
thriving far far below.
Copyright © 2022 by Allison Grayhurst
First published in “Winamop” June 2022
You can listen to the poem by clicking below: