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

 

 

Our Little Pushkin

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Our Little Pushkin

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In the mornings I watch

your sleeping face like

a chinadoll’s, perfect in every way.

I see your smile when you awake

like I would a waterfall on my street corner.

I see you curled tight with joy,

and flinch at the noon day sun.

When I hold you to feed, and you talk to me

with playful glee, I love you more than

my heart can carry.

I think this blessing is stronger than death,

strong like an acorn tree growing.

All night you rest on a pillow in my arms,

we play with bright coloured dangling things,

and your navy eyes open wide

as your legs begin dancing.

You watch and watch like a Buddha in disguise,

taking in life with a calm and thoughtful presence.

You are the spring’s first butterfly, an owl on my shoulder.

You are wonder incarnate, freely showing

what grows so beautiful inside of you.

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Copyright © 2000 by Allison Grayhurst

3005

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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Published in “Poetry at Sangam” March 2018

http://poetry.sangamhouse.org/

http://poetry.sangamhouse.org/2018/03/march-2018/

http://poetry.sangamhouse.org/2018/03/allison-grayhurst/

http://poetry.sangamhouse.org/2018/03/our-little-pushkin/

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Published in “Narrow Road, Monsoon Issue”, August 2017

 

Narrow Road_Monsoon_Issue_Aug_2017 (2)

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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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