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

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First published in “New Mystics” August 2017

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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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Still brimming with awe,

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Still brimming with awe,

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and cuddling sweet against your

father’s welcoming cheek.

Still bizarre in the light of

your unique humour and stubborn

as the apple tree is strong in the

happy earth.

Turning One tomorrow and all the things

you’ve learned in that span –

to say a word, to grow in kindness and

in temperament, to laugh out loud.

All the things you still are – a soul

of amazing riches, thoughtful and gentle

and so sure of yourself.

Still entranced with all things small and new.

Still each day we awake to your beauty

as we look into your strange sea-coloured eyes

and bend to smell the strands of your wispy hair.

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Copyright © 2002 by Allison Grayhurst

3011

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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Published in “Medusa’s Kitchen” July 2017

http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.ca/2017/07/peer-owlish.html

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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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Almost a Girl

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Almost a Girl

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We play with sounds,

making a flower out of tissue paper.

She bounces a ball,

miming the harmony of its rise and fall.

She paints with strokes

that calls the orange seed to bloom,

and all the while she dances

to the starlight’s tune, loving

its brave expression.

We read tales told in rhymes

and sniff the picked herbs

in our garden.

Every morning we count spoons

and watch the boys play next door.

She knows her colours purple and blue,

plays Boo! behind the door.

Her body beats an ancient symphony of affection,

loving easily my inviting arms.

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Copyright © 2002 by Allison Grayhurst

3011

Our Children Are Orchards

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Medusa’s Kitchen” July 2017

http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.ca/2017/07/peer-owlish.html

 

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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Found

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Found

While in a century surrendered to

a howling vision that bridged

the Earth to God,

while in the chaos of the self-assured

and beautiful, with obstacles of half-felt focus

and rough charm

dropping like heavy hail along my path,

I found you. I found a mind

that could not join the perpetual

and charred motions of loveless togetherness.

I found someone who held to truth like a child,

thick with depth and a rare sort of intensity.

Someone who hasn’t the wherewithal to deceive,

who is freed by his belief in lasting, evergrowing love,

who faced the terror and turned

to serve the implausible, only possible mercy.

 

I no longer cry from loneliness. The light is in

his body and all around is the labyrinth of his mystery.

My eleven-year lover who still haunts me

with his impassioned creative touch, who loves me like I am,

mostly bare and broken, though sometimes

high with gratitude, glittering,

at peace.

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Copyright © 2002 by Allison Grayhurst

3011

img069

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Treehouse Arts” July 2017

https://treehousearts.me/2017/07/26/poetry-found-by-allison-grayhurst/

https://treehousearts.me/2017/04/08/poetry-by-allison-grayhurst-no-raft-no-ocean-odie-and-under-the-rib-cage/

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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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Funeral

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Funeral

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The photograph of her face –

bold as one who knows herself completely –

as the bagpipes blew

and I could hear her voice

gently humming the tune.

There were strangers everywhere

in the crowded room of grievers and

in her daughter’s eyes. It was

only her

I loved and her I will miss.

She cradled the land ever so deeply

and dreamt elaborate and graceful worlds,

etched in the smoothest of stones.

She is shared by so many.

But for me, my love was personal,

and it is not so easy to hold

this severed vine of gold, not so easy to let go

of her rare and destined heart

that helped give shape to my own.

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Copyright © 2002 by Allison Grayhurst

3011

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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Published in “The Poetry Community” June 2017

 

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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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Hit The Mark

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Hit The Mark

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This sunrise, rushing

from your pores, smooth and

bright as perfection

has trailed out from a loving home,

out from the endurance of a decade tattooed

to your skin.

You, under the spotlight

bearing no fractures

are as close as the bone is to the shell.

And everyone was transported, gliding

through your soliloquy like birds in

a cool spring air.

A coming together, a rejoicing of all

your struggles, the last completing thread,

magic and kindled by your spiritual voice.

Animated like silver dust on still water, you arrived.

You made the world, at last,

understand and listen.

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Copyright © 2002 by Allison Grayhurst

3011

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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Published in “Our Poetry Archive, Contemporary Women’s Poetry Anthology ” July 2017

https://anthologyofcontemporarywomenspoetry.blogspot.ca/

https://anthologyofcontemporarywomenspoetry.blogspot.ca/2017/07/allison-grayhurst.html

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Published in “Medusa’s Kitchen” June 2017

 http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.ca/2017/06/someone-new.html
.
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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It is not new

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It is not new

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to hold out a hand

and find something dead

cupped inside.

It is not love that loves

through essential compromise.

It is God we speak to

everytime we verbalize,

and God will mend even the ones

who think they’re saved.

It is the cracked jaw,

the splintered bone and expressions

of boredom and greed that

disease a child’s innocence.

It is how we deal with the senselessness of being

that makes us either deny or realize

a gift of spiritual wonder.

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Copyright © 2002 by Allison Grayhurst

3011

img059

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

First published in “Our Poetry Archive, Contemporary Women’s Poetry Anthology” July 2017

https://anthologyofcontemporarywomenspoetry.blogspot.ca/

https://anthologyofcontemporarywomenspoetry.blogspot.ca/2017/07/allison-grayhurst.html

.

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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