Category Archives: Excerpts from Book 24 “The Poetry of Allison Grayhurst – completed works from 1988 to 2017 (Volume 3 of 5)” Edge Unlimited Publishing (2017)

OnlyOneGod

Posted on by Allison Grayhurst

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OnlyOneGod

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In you I place

the hope of centuries,

a hope beginning before

the pounding of water on rock.

For you I sang the anthem

of my ancient race and

waited to hear a reply.

Before you, I stand

revealed, lonely, in need of change.

Against you, I lean

like a child who has never known parents

or any connection for so so long.

Because of you, I remember

the gifts in my hands, the core of my striving

and the reasons I have

to stay

  with you

  in you

  where I place

  my will and means

              to be restored.

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Copyright © 2008 by Allison Grayhurst

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Published in “SUFI Journal, Issue #95 Sacred Spaces” June 2018 (Featured Poet)

https://www.sufijournal.org/95-featured-poet/

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Sufi Journal Issue 95

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I Find Clarity

Posted on by Allison Grayhurst

 

I Find Clarity

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I find clarity

beside the open coffin

beside the one made of glass

with the see-through dogma

and beside the one of simple majesty.

I find myself free of the cumbersome hunger

for revival. I find myself just wanting

to be in the shadow, away from direct

light and the attitude of sentimentality and guilt.

I find my hands are strong and my legs

are capable of walking long distances.

I find that that is enough

to complete me.

I find food in someone else’s grocery cart

and my thirst is something I have learned to live with.

I find I am not so impressed with what used to

impress me. I am not striving for passion

at every turn, but I find passion at the lower levels

where rodents crawl and babies

muse at the ceiling.

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Copyright © 2008 by Allison Grayhurst

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First published in “Jumping Blue Gods”

 

Parameters

Posted on by Allison Grayhurst

 

Parameters

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The gift of all this crumbles

with a single out-of-sync happening.

Geraniums are frosting over

and the high grass is yellowing.

Yesterday was a cat in symmetrical slumber,

pictures stood straight and warmth

was gathering like a sweet wind over the neighbourhood.

Does this mean it is my mind? like an insect living

one season, sees only that season, dies before winter,

content to have made it so long?

Does this mean the puddle

I jump in, wade in, determine in

is only a pail of water, nothing beside the ocean?

When the puddle is stirred from its stillness or

becomes a bath for snakes or dries up from too much sun –

it is still the puddle and will replenish again

as all puddles do in the rain, maybe

in the early evening just before the lion comes

to take a long, relaxed drink.

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Copyright © 2008 by Allison Grayhurst

 amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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 First published in “Literary Orphans”, Issue 13, May 2014

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