What seems unending

will end and when it ends

an ocean of emptiness will

consume. The dragon’s nest

will be disturbed and

heat will flow its lava-reach and hot depth

into the ordinary, the extraordinary

and everything in between.

 

This star is imploding into a vacuous

vacuum-suck and spiral break, spinal break

that breaks any chance for mobility.

When it ends it will be my end,

orphaned, no hidden curses, icons will be broken,

and saints will be laid bare, naked, exposed before God.

 

So end, my mother, but do not end,

be like a songbird blasting her song

before the sun even rises, glorifying,

and watch the heavenly bodies

surrounding, lifting your soul gently,

transforming you naturally

to breaststroke through

sun-bearing ridges

rising, dipping

divine dimensions.

 

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Copyright © 2024 by Allison Grayhurst

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

 

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Read whole poem:

https://allisongrayhurst.com/my-mothers-sky/

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