Thinking Outside

Thinking Outside

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Touching tails

and feather wings.

The apple trees bend

and sing of autumn’s coming.

Starlings talk across backyards

and the high-pitched beetle

fills the wind like a calming drug.

In this place as summer fades

the quiet demands self-truth.

To pull from inside

a lacerated pride

and pile it on the dried grass.

Shadows mend the divided self

and love is an activity

to understand while counting birds

overhead.

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Copyright © 2004 by Allison Grayhurst

3013

BookCoverImage Allison GrayhurstTrial and Witness back cover final

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Poetry Pacific”

Poetry Pacific - Thinking 1Poetry Pacific - coverPoetry Pacific - Thinking 2Poetry Pacific - bio

http://poetrypacific.blogspot.ca/2013/11/3-poems-by-allison-grayhurst.html

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

https://allisongrayhurst.files.wordpress.com/2011/08/thinking-outside.m4a

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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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Only One

 

Only One

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What speaks of tenderness in the dead-blue

aftermath of human-induced horror?

When husband and wife are at odds,

seeing only the diseased boil of slaughter

then non-existence, when the pregnant woman

finds no seat in the midst of a

crowded day?

What speaks of holding on when the world is pale

with grief and parents mock their children’s love

with coldness and condescension?

What eye can see divine magnificence before

its doom? Or find greatness in what

society has ignored or condemned?

 

On the rafters a single flower is born.

I look to that single flower, like I look to spending

the afternoon with the ones who have endeared,

like the pulse and turn of my infant within

or a brief morning solitude –

                  open for interpretation.

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Copyright © 2004 by Allison Grayhurst

3013

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published titled “Only”  in “The Screech Owl” and “The Screech Owl” printed volume one