Cage of Many Pockets and Layers

Lead,

into the land of vermin,

infesting the once blooming shores,

past the emergency-alarm, into

living fires, boiling and sharp in

their arrogant countenance.

Alone on a humble rock, standing –

arms folded, then stretched wide and up.

I take the hand and am led to a land

that tests my dignity and my resolve.

Many voices I must lose, people to leave behind.

The ship is the hand

leading through levels of horror

until the gate opens

to the possibility for redemption.

Wings of demons block the sky – pilgrimage eternal,

shaking off pity for the futile swarm moving

like lips of a mouth moving that offers no sound or groan.

My mind is tied to heaven, committed to resurgence.

My heart breaks but it is still whole, leaving,

being led over the land of naught, where there is plenty

of self-righteous indignation, self-sorrowing gleam

and the shadows,

led through and over

flailing limbs, bodies multiplying –

a thickening mass, swirling, swirling…

Copyright © 2021 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

 .https://issuu.com/allisongrayhurst/docs/book_32_-ways_of_mercy_-_the_poetry_of_allison_gra

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First published in “Impspired – Issue 10 and print anthology Volume 5” April/May 2021

https://impspired.com/impspired-issue-10/

https://impspired.com/2021/04/01/allison-greyhurst/

https://www.amazon.com/dp/191413026X

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Published in “Synchronized Chaos” April 2021

http://synchchaos.com/synchronized-chaos-april-2021-escape-room/

http://synchchaos.com/poetry-from-allison-grayhurst-12/

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You can listen to this poem by clicking the link below:

Unseen

The folly of faith,

impossible to describe,

seeing the roots, the buds

connected but separated

by the trunk – crusty,

immovable, a thick stick

stubborn realty.

The buds are the fruit of faith

as the roots drink, low, snake-like in

their undercavern – moist with the fluids of earth,

tougher than the surrounding insects and worms,

carrying substance through

the almost impenetrable wood –

            wood for paper, wood for footbridges,

            and for building beaver dams

            and a multitude of varied homes.

When the buds bloom, we smell the blossom

hold their fragile sides, unplucked inside a gentle touch.

Then the songbirds come, the squirrels, the first summer’s

light, and the buds turn into apples, peaches, a succulent cherry.

The faith of the root is actualized.

We consume, satiated by the sweet flesh and nectar –

nutrients flow into fingertips, bellies-centred,

calf muscles, and our brains, fed,

able to charge unchartered pathways,

revolutionary understanding, shoulder altruism.

Faith is this folly that only

the poor in expectation can see,

faith as fodder for the foal, necessary

as the change of seasons, faith

that begins

in the root-blood-bond darkness

far below.

Copyright © 2021 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

 .https://issuu.com/allisongrayhurst/docs/book_32_-ways_of_mercy_-_the_poetry_of_allison_gra

.

First published in “Rave Cage Zine” March 2021

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1OHHDKazRmtKcCPpR4sco_SrxoK19029c/view

RavenCageZine55

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You can listen to this poem by clicking the link below:

Sun-spill    Son-spell

By myself, I was deceived,

led by a false enthusiasm

of generosity that fizzled out

when reality made its claim.

            Devotion is rare, even rarer

is the true gift given,

void of expectation

on the receiver.

            Faith is holding emptiness with God,

a fountain that recycles its flow, continuously.

            Jesus is a shock

out of human nature into God’s nature.

Jesus is a higher level of heaven revealed,

but hard to keep the veil open when the world restricts,

presses down with its laws, telling us otherwise.

            I see a house.

we will enter that house.

            In that house,

food and love will be abundant.

            In this house, we will be invited,

where the walls have a pulse,

a warm blood rhythm.

            From this house

we will witness a smiling flock of geese overhead,

crying out a simultaneous song, crying out

with such vitality it usurps then transforms

the dark familiar, absolving our debts

with that song, along with every other bond

embroidered to our skin that made us weep

from their inexorable weight and prophecy.

Copyright © 2021 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

 .https://issuu.com/allisongrayhurst/docs/book_32_-ways_of_mercy_-_the_poetry_of_allison_gra

.

First published in “Raven Cage Zine” March 2021

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1OHHDKazRmtKcCPpR4sco_SrxoK19029c/view

RavenCageZine55

.

You can listen to this poem by clicking the link below: