Transfigured

 

Transfigured

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Each day I wear my grief

like metal mesh. I see you

as a spirit burdened to speak.

You try to comfort this field

of wounds. You tend the amputees

and bound the screaming with soft song.

But it is hard for you to stay,

to not let go completely into the light.

I let you go. I make this year my bridge.

Though my heart has ruptured and cannot heal,

and I am forever overcome with this sadness

of our love silenced by brutal, unnamable death,

I will build a new house, dive with both hands

into my yard until the evergreens grow.

I will contain you as more than memory –

in my harvest will bloom many sunflowers

of your great generosity. And your fiery blood

will sprout the roots and flesh of passion fruit.

The maple tree will grow large like you, protecting all

within its strong and tender shadow. And children

will be drawn to this yard, to play there amongst

the tall dramatic grass, and then sit still to watch

with wonder the many shades of sky, reflecting

the warmth of your paternal sun-setting colours.

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Copyright © 2000 by Allison Grayhurst

3005

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Turk’s Head Review”, July 2014

http://turksheadreview.tumblr.com/post/92421950406/transfigured

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

https://allisongrayhurst.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/transfigured.m4a?_=1

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“Allison Grayhurst intertwines a potent spirituality throughout her work so that each poem is not simply a statement or observation, but a revelation that demands the reader’s personal involvement. Grayhurst’s poetic genius is profound and evident. Her voice is uniquely authentic, undeniable in its dignified vulnerability as it is in its significance,” Kyp Harness, singer/songwriter, author.

 

“Allison Grayhurst’s poems are like cathedrals witnessing and articulating in unflinching graphic detail the gritty angst and grief of life, while taking it to rare clarity, calm and comfort. Grayhurst’s work is haunting, majestic and cleansing, often leaving one breathless in the wake of its intelligence, hope, faith and love amidst the muck of life. Many of Allison Grayhurst’s poems are simply masterpieces. Grayhurst’s poetry is a lighthouse of intelligent honour… indeed, intelligence rips through her work like white water,” Taylor Jane Green, Registered Spiritual Psychotherapist and author.

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Seeking the Balanced Degree

 

Seeking the Balanced Degree

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My mind is painted bright blue

like a pair of favourite jeans.

My belly is bread for thieves. Here

the crime awakens:

I drink from the eternal teat

of responsibility, from the lake

of suffering I must ignore

to breathe a steady rain, to scatter

my guilt amongst the weeds.

What happens when your all is nothing?

or when the truck runs you down seeing only

anonymous hairstrands and entrails?

Knowing love’s limitations,

like one knows the snows or the teeth

of an animal, is the tension that frees.

An enemy is at my table.

A horse is buried under American sands.

My heart is water:

It longs to quench the hot summer skin of sparrows.

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Copyright © 1997 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “B-Gina Review”, 2012

http://bginareview.wordpress.com/2012/07/20/seeking-the-balanced-degree/

http://www.scoop.it/t/b-gina-review-journal

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

https://allisongrayhurst.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/seeking-the-balanced-degree.m4a?_=2

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“Allison Grayhurst intertwines a potent spirituality throughout her work so that each poem is not simply a statement or observation, but a revelation that demands the reader’s personal involvement. Grayhurst’s poetic genius is profound and evident. Her voice is uniquely authentic, undeniable in its dignified vulnerability as it is in its significance,” Kyp Harness, singer/songwriter, author.

“Allison Grayhurst’s poems are like cathedrals witnessing and articulating in unflinching graphic detail the gritty angst and grief of life, while taking it to rare clarity, calm and comfort. Grayhurst’s work is haunting, majestic and cleansing, often leaving one breathless in the wake of its intelligence, hope, faith and love amidst the muck of life. Many of Allison Grayhurst’s poems are simply masterpieces. Grayhurst’s poetry is a lighthouse of intelligent honour… indeed, intelligence rips through her work like white water,” Taylor Jane Green, Registered Spiritual Psychotherapist and author.

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Reviews of  ‘Journey of the Awakening’:
“Journey of the Awakening is the first book of poetry that I have read of Allison Grayhurst. While reading it began to sound familiar, the comment to myself was “She is as good as Sylvia Plath”. When I finished the book I read comments from others who referred to her as “In the style of Sylvia Plath”; Ms Plath, one of my favorite poets had no match until Ms Grayhurst’s work. Congratulations to her on her achievements, I am already a ‘fan’, the love of her work will continue to grow,” Ann Johnson-Murphree, poet and author.
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“Grayhurst is a great Canadian poet. All of Allison Grayhurst’s poetry is original, sometimes startling, and more often than not, powerful. Anyone who loves modern poetry that does not follow the common path will find Grayhurst complex, insightful, and as good a poet as anyone writing in the world today. This, and other Grayhurst poetry volumes are highly, highly recommended,” Tom Davis, poet, novelist and educator.
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Animal Sanctuary – the song and the poem

Animal Sanctuary by Diane Barbarash

 

River – songs from the poetry of Allison Grayhurst

https://dianebarbarash.bandcamp.com/

https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/dianebarbarash3

https://itunes.apple.com/ca/album/river-songs-from-the-poetry-of-allison-grayhurst/id1293420648

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0766X9LDJ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1507310524&sr=8-1&keywords=diane+barbarash

 

 

The Poem:

 

Animal Sanctuary

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He turns his hawk head

to view the shells of turtles streaking

the still-shroud of water in tanks

as blue as sky.

 

He lifts a leg and talons tensed,

pivots to defend against an enclosing shadow.

 

With whitish eyes and an impossible urge

to fly, he hops along his man-made perch toward

the cages where squirrels leap

from metal to wood, scattering like leaves

in unpredictable flurry.

 

He listens to the ducks’ lipless sounds.

 

Spring, he will never experience again, nor know

the scent of a pent-up life released like

sunflowers blooming, or the feel of the moon,

colder but more comforting than being touched.

 

He is without time or tribe,

and like fire, he haunts

by just being.

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Copyright © 1998 by Allison Grayhurst

   

 

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First published in “UC Review”, 1996/1997

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