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.
.
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:
