Running, lightwave riding

Running, lightwave riding



       Keeping a holy flame

close to my chest, in the mornings,

deep in the base-line sleep

I throw a stone sideways – many pipes

are broken, hearts clogged with

despair, disappointments and dreams

of eternal dreams.

       Answers start up like old machines,

make noise, but cannot be useful or join

a continuous flow.

Depleted bank accounts, rough-shod carpets

and rotting wooden subfloors – all of this is the same,

but what isn’t is how I kiss high above,

feel myself and all who I love, cradled

in divine tenderness.

       Do you know love, that kind of love?

It is better than smooth skin, soft fur,

or a year away on Spanish shores.

It is dangerous because it is all that is left,

and in that lofty beauty, all else is

forfeit that doesn’t match its wonder,

simplicity, discipline.

       It has to be surrender.

It has to be in this world

of chaos, unpredictable danger

and mishaps.

It is about connections,

fumes over the swamp, fledglings left alone

to die in the too-hot sun, and

waterholes gone unreplenished.

       It is always this fear, this faith as one,

balancing, illuminated, filling up with pressure

then taking in every blessing,

the singularity of life, senseless conditions,

steel-bar limitation, pleading while satisfied,

longing while fulfilled, coat off, shoes off –

toe bent and broken, glad to still be able

to walk, to climb a chair, clean a home

and ask myself – is this freedom?



Copyright © 2022 by Allison Grayhurst



First published in “Written Tales Chapbook III” and online, June/August 2022

Freedom – Written Tales




Published in “New Mystics” July 2022

New Mystics July 2022 AllisonGrayhurst-9Poems



You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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