A fountain sits

in the centre of my backyard,

watering and shading the mourning doves

pecking at the dirt below.

Yet I am deep in a hazardous denial,

giving weight to an illusion that

bonds me to the desert and

sand dunes rolling as far

as my eyes can see.

So deep I cannot see the fountain

or the backyard or

the delicate joy of choice.


Today I will make a decision

step onto the platform

and take my chances.

In this place, this quiet morning,

I will feel myself changed, unchained.

Then, I will start to dig into the sands

until I find a wetness burning, keep digging

until I release a rising flow,

a personal permanent resurrection.



Copyright © 2022 by Allison Grayhurst



First published in “The Wise Owl – Ochre Edition” July 2022


You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.