Sing

Sing

 

 

I will sing until the end for you

of centipedes and endless hallways,

of the warning stream rising

and the dead birds on the snowbank

that came back too early, fooled

by a false spring.

 

I will sing of flashing lights

and other conditions

that tempt sanity’s hold.

And then I will sing of glory at the dinner table,

a morning hug, leaving an opening for grace

throughout it all.

 

I will love you until the end, believe

in your majesty above all

although I am equally blind in the sun as in the dark,

but what I sing for out-paces sight,

is faint but obvious as a babe’s eyes glowing

in quiet delight, pulses a clear small core

in the tumbleweed confusion of everyday love as

everyday I need you more, and so

I will go on singing as I am,

rusted, cracked, always

leaning.

 

 

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Copyright © 2022 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

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First published in “Winamop” June 2022

http://www.winamop.com/ag2200.htm

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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