The backside of the shadow

is awake, and losing ground again

burning in the sinkhole, into

a conclusion of harsh hard

cause-and effect.

Eyelids lower, sleep is never rest

but a patchwork horror-show

of violence and loss and things

once perfect, stolen

behind locked doors.

 

Underground, the circus continues

and I will never find my way out

of this mirrored maze.

I know that if I lie flat in the stark silence,

mortal eroding flesh is inevitable.

Extravagant love always has a price.

The price owed has been paid and I must leave

the turning circle, step past the fissure-groove

and sink into a faith abiding.

 

I will walk with you reckless

over this abandoned lake,

skipping across veiled skin ice,

thinning, seeing through, skipping,

and somehow never a crack will form

and never your toe nor my heel

falling through.

 

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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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