A kiss

A curl

a look out

a look beyond

a rosy anticipation.

All things compare to each other

in the dark gloom of dissatisfaction,

meaningless activity

reaching its zenith then back to the nadir and

spinning again.

Painting helps and even singing a familiar song

but these things do not break the loop

or contain more than a flawed and temporary ease.

Hands down, Hands open and the mind saying

now- be brave!

 

Love is deeper than darkness

more unexpected and varied than the checkpoints

of delusion, chaos and dementia.

Love then, widespread.

Take on that love

and place what weighs you down

into the wet cement blocks

of this unhappy nightmarish decline.

 

Do this and inherit

the dreamy peace

and its mortal claim.

Do this and be devoted

to good service, knowing

all else is bloodshed,

must be shed to earn your keep

and beeline your way to

a maturing discipline,

an invincible pronouncement –

 

angelic terror

where only

this slender slice of light exits

to squish through,

beckoning, supreme.

 

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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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