Only One

 

Only One

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What speaks of tenderness in the dead-blue

aftermath of human-induced horror?

When husband and wife are at odds,

seeing only the diseased boil of slaughter

then non-existence, when the pregnant woman

finds no seat in the midst of a

crowded day?

What speaks of holding on when the world is pale

with grief and parents mock their children’s love

with coldness and condescension?

What eye can see divine magnificence before

its doom? Or find greatness in what

society has ignored or condemned?

 

On the rafters a single flower is born.

I look to that single flower, like I look to spending

the afternoon with the ones who have endeared,

like the pulse and turn of my infant within

or a brief morning solitude –

                  open for interpretation.

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Copyright © 2004 by Allison Grayhurst

3013

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published titled “Only”  in “The Screech Owl” and “The Screech Owl” printed volume one

 

 

Faith

 

Faith

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It is found,

found in a pocket on a jacket

that has not been worn for years.

It is an emblem of uncharted kindness

that cannot fade even when I falter.

It is a name on a wall

that changes but is always mine.

It is the end result, the start of all

things good.

It is not going to leave me, or seep

through the mattress, underground.

It is so beautiful, it has the whole of my being.

It is speaking to me from billboard signs,

from the ones I loved and lost.

It is the parcel I have been waiting for.

It is my graduation party,

my only hope for recovery.

It is warmth and well being.

It is Friday night.

It is a star-shaped candy,

and it is found.

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Copyright © 2006 by Allison Grayhurst

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BookCoverImage Allison GrayhurstTrial and Witness back cover final

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First published in “Message in a Bottle Poetry Magazine”

Beyond The Grave – the song and the poem

 

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:

 

Beyond The Grave

If all the seeds fell like blood

or blood like seeds into

the ravenous earth and time

was a wagging tail in the dark

then I would know that death would come

by any reason and be a blessing

all on its own. But as it is, death is

the hollow spot of the living – some with

grief and others with fear, and me myself,

it is memory that unbuttons the flesh of my chest

to leave me poked and burning.

It is the hill I climb and stumble

down its rocky incline whenever I return

if only once a day

to meet death’s stalking eyes.

It is not my heart that fails me,

but the things outside

like the shadow on the neighbours’ window

and the frightening madness of so many strangers.

It is here and there like an insect

on my wall, like the fatherly love

I’ll never find again in another’s eyes,

but is with me in the coming autumn air,

and in the quietude of these joy-filled days.

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Copyright © 2002 by Allison Grayhurst

3011   

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Veil – Journal of Darker Musings”

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Girl – the song and the poem

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:

 

Girl

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Under the willow tree a girl

was standing, lonely with

the worst of nights ahead.

They said

drink from the tarpit waters and swallow

the oysters that lost their shells.

She saw the drug the wind made

though she did not let it shift her steadfast heart.

Everywhere the notion stood

that fighting back is better than

the tender wave, better than

empathy and believing in affection.

The willow leaves have gone brown and the girl has moved

beside a cliff. She dances as though she

could not fall. And though they gasp to pity

her poor body against rocks and ridges,

she continues to move like a beautiful sound,

sure of the hand that guides her.

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Copyright © 2002 by Allison Grayhurst

3011     

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Out of Our”, 2012

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Easter Faith

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Easter Faith

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It is not emptiness,

but redemption. A redemption

after the emptiness

that comes with the hope of a blessing,

after there is no further down,

there is only up or death.

It is not suffering that bears such wisdom,

but the surrender and acceptance of God’s love

no matter what – it is the purity of that acceptance,

the absoluteness of it

that matters, that causes the miracle –

 

playing out like a walk across the sun

without going blind or getting burned.

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Copyright © 2006 by Allison Grayhurst

3010

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amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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Published in “New Mystics” August 2017

http://www.newmystics.com/lit/AllisonGrayhurst.html

http://www.newmystics.com/documents/AllisonGrayhurst-Poems3.pdf

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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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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Happy Summer Coming

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Happy Summer Coming

Days of blessings –

my happy family,

a home to lay my pillow in,

a future to work toward

and a spectrum-wide love

that makes all the difficulties

hop the train and head for another town.

Finally a lifting that has taken so long,

an ease permeating floorboards, rising

to level with my nose.

Finally a breaking away from survival’s

clamped umbilical cord and a dignity

rushing in to overwrite the hardships.

Days of being satisfied, of no-more-gasping.

Days to let the arms hang relaxed

and give thanks again

for seeing us through.

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Copyright © 2004 by Allison Grayhurst

3013

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “The Peregrine Muse” July 2017

https://sites.google.com/site/theperegrinemuseii/home/grayhurst

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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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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Bellythroes of God

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Bellythroes of God

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The rawness behind the mastery,

the way to speak of the bellythroes

of God and kneel while doing so,

kneel not from the hindered place of    

God        and       I,

but from knowing it is all God even

your self is God, and you are and God is love wider than air,

more abundant than eternity. Kneel

because this love is both personal and absolute,

it is reaching to you alone while

spreading thick the blaze of stars.

Kneel because for a fraction of a second you

know it is never God who stops giving, but it is

you who stop receiving, you who block

the constant flow, you who deflect it with your habits,

boredom and fear. That God is always there but that

you only feel God’s presence when you decide to,

when you let the barriers crack and split a

sliver in your daily husk of coasting existence.

 

Sometimes too, when grief becomes the sword this

soft word never prepares you for –

when with this word grief

you begin to hear not only the sorrow but also the scream

that hits like a hurricane pulling a child from

your breast. And there it is grief in all its monstrous

proportions. There it is, the very thin line

between God and chaos

with the soul’s ultimate peace at stake. Faith is the bridge.

For the faithless in grief would either go mad or harden like

little pellets in a mid-February storm. The faithless would

not know how to cope and stay whole.

 

Kneel because you know God is the dream we all seek

whether we it know or not.

God is the goal of all our striving –

the financier nestling in the fat, protective arms

of worldly security, the intellectual

devouring ideas like solutions,

ideas as a path to lead to some mysterious

ever-complex cerebral calm,

the soccer player feeling her victory in her torn ligaments

and in the shafts of her sweaty hair –

We look but we do not name it as such.

We look but God still is not the priority,

not the weight of all our emotions and thoughts,

not the bulk of our dilemmas, and not

the subject of our intimate talk.

God is something to hide from, the one hope

we all innately look for in prayer books

or in politicians. But God is not something

to be looked for, God is simply something to see.

God is my cup of restive tea. God in my shopping cart.

God in the standard and not-so-standard things –

in a teenager or a brick wall,

in an animal’s unexpected tenderness or

a dull piece of box.

God is not something to discover

but something to finally, wholeheartedly acknowledge.

God is and we are when we embrace

the boundless directed compassion of God,

when we realize that God is the only one thing we need

that can grow to be stronger than gravity

and the cold desperation for survival.

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Copyright © 2002 by Allison Grayhurst

3011

img059

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

First published in “New Mystics” August 2017

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

“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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