End of the Line
Consumed like a passion
that exceeds its limited energy,
like a sorrow when anger
gets a foothold,
my anger tightens, incapable
of finding culmination or the subsiding
soothing aftermath of shame or reason.
Around the circle, banishment from joy
and movement, the scattering of dead seeds.
Through the circle, a chance to develop,
foster trust in the goodness presenting,
to rest my head, release the futile struggle
and devote my intelligence
to examining this foreign peace.
But the ladder has been demolished,
and I cannot climb without it
or travel the same path, going around.
I will not withstand being chained again
to such an unrelenting foe,
wearing this false face
fated to merge with and shadow
Copyright © 2022 by Allison Grayhurst
Published in “Creation and Criticism, Vol. 07” October 2022
First published in “Medusa’s Kitchen” July 2022
You can listen to the poem by clicking below: