Duty has made work in the garden

impossible, waking up,

a barren chore.

The mountains have dropped,

flattened out into a steady plane.

Energy I gave up as mine, came back,

surprising me with my own resilience,

stamina to hold the days together one after another

until they became months, a way of life and service.

This gift like a curse like a gift

necessary to pluck

my soul from a rut it had no awareness it was even in

until out, until forced to hold a different tune

and play it until it becomes naturally possible,

a place of unbelievable challenge met,

a place to live without

decisions, conclusions,

live as an open-end-nerve swimming

stroke by stroke upstream –

most times lit on fire,

a few times resting on the bank,

looking around

tamed, soothed.

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Copyright © 2024 by Allison Grayhurst

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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Read whole poem:

https://allisongrayhurst.com/my-mothers-sky/

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Repeating, the days

knowing a different day will only be worse,

veiling the eyelids, opening an emptiness

that will never be eased.

Repeating but not forever, but

longer than anticipated. In spite

of the great love you feel, you feel

used-up, under appreciated.

But this is her now, diseased and drugged,

does not diminish her glowing

life-long compassion, her extravagant tolerance

and kindness, connection to everyone, her softness

that still peels away the crust in an instant

when her heart is touched, when faith

is required.

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Copyright © 2024 by Allison Grayhurst

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.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

Read whole poem:

https://allisongrayhurst.com/my-mothers-sky/

.

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After the end,

when the end comes

and speaking is useless,

her home will be a torch

blown out – her turquoise eyes,

curtained. Sorrow will open

like a jar of dragonflies, fireflies

released as one.

And even then, when resigned

to the careful truth, the separation

will ache like a phantom limb,

like a stillborn child held, kissed,

never receiving.

As the end approaches,

I will have to force the basics

of breathe, sleep, eat

for her sake and those around me

who love her equally as I do.

I will forget about hope

and then later I will remember

her eyes, alit with playful joy,

her summers spent on proud

adventures and the way she loved me,

never giving up, generous

as an empathetic and beautiful queen,

loving me

without understanding me

but trusting me

all the same.

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Copyright © 2024 by Allison Grayhurst

.

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

Read whole poem:

https://allisongrayhurst.com/my-mothers-sky/

.

.