The Night Before

The Night Before

 

 

        I praised and held the wind in a jar.

All the while, the stars melted, old gods

were replaced by new ones, and the once invincible

were fated to run lunatic through communities, terrorizing

and leaving pathways of blood with their strong arms

and war-loving minds.

        Dancers curled up like centipedes,

poets lost their poetry to analysis and clichés,

and worst of all –

no one was able to tell the difference between

what was gold and what was a trinket.

        My hair was long, back then, I remember,

my beaten-up hands were supplicating,

but every blessing was denied me, from weariness,

from loss and from my own hard-hearted pride.

I was ready to be fatally wounded, as such an ache

would be an adventure.

I was ready to run across a river

and test the currents’ force against my own resolve.

        So I went north, away

from the wicked heat Mediterranean sun.

I praised, and in that praise, was half-way perfect.

A mouse could not know my skilled imagination

and an eagle was too high to tap deep into my shadows.

        I went up a mountain, but first over

that river. I sang a new language when

I touched the snow, sang,

making an Eden in that virgin toil.

 

 

 

Copyright © 2020 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Rasa Literary Review, Issue 1” October 2020

https://rasaliteraryreview20.wixsite.com/website/arts

RASA LITERARY REVIEW-FIRST ISSUE (1)

https://allisongrayhurst.files.wordpress.com/2020/10/rasa-literary-review-first-issue-1.pdf

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

Pythagoras-Ovid Royalty

Pythagoras-Ovid Royalty

 

 

Unwed from heritage,

for the tie of tradition is darkness,

and the price in the folly of lineage,

is a line to cross, to be born into

but never earned.

 

Sink or swim in your history,

families are special

like all families are special, like

all cultures are beauty mingled with cruelty –

things that hardened into meaningless rock

and things that are allowed to move

and keep their lifeforce.

 

Be born like a new babe,

eyes set on only mother-father God,

don’t carry the price and the agony of your blood

that is only blood, not spiritual, and only mighty in illusion

by you ordaining it so.

Belong nowhere and hold that freedom

that is hard to own and is immediate

as a mountain is

or a rainstorm.

 

Race with the wind, lighten the burden,

bathe in a burst of ever-fresh glory,

toeing the line for no one – release

all wounds and accolades

of what you claim as your own

but where and who you’ve never been –

 

If past lives are real, then belong to every

race, every culture, every species.

 

Once we were all fish, so

stop fishing.

 

 

 

Copyright © 2020 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

.

First published in “Rasa Literary Review, Issue 1” October 2020

RASA LITERARY REVIEW-FIRST ISSUE (1)

https://rasaliteraryreview20.wixsite.com/website/arts

https://allisongrayhurst.files.wordpress.com/2020/10/rasa-literary-review-first-issue-1.pdf

.

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below: