Preparing

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I go to the crosswalk

and leave my bread crumbs on the other side.

I am waiting for motivation, for a clarity of purpose

that I once owned like a beautiful stone

I sunk under the St. Lawrence rapids. When I was a child,

I watched those rapids without fear,

stood close to the edge and never wondered

about the slippery underfoot,

never worried about the shadflies arriving like a plague of river insects

or about my loneliness that turned into a ghost companion

comforting me in those grey Quebec afternoons.

But here, in this riverless realm,

I cannot place my hands down. I cannot stretch wide enough

to feel whole. I go to the corner store and hear answers that only I

and the birds

can hear.

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Copyright © 2011 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Gloom Cupboard”, 2013

http://gloomcupboard.com/2011/11/17/poetry-139/

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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