She

Fear is splendid

in making the body inflamed,

bloated on trepidation at the news

of many meadows burning.

She hurried and found a healer

inside herself, willing to go

the distance and forfeit

personal power for a greater

acquisition.

She understood the traveller and

the sit-at-homer as one in the same,

especially on a stormy day or a year of upheaval.

Faith is the bullseye with no point-marks gained

unless hit dead-centre, directing every focus

to only that centre.

Faith is the wave to ride to the shore,

removed from other moving sources,

like wind and arm-strokes.

She opened herself to fear

not denying it but seeing it

as just another entity

under the canopy, smaller

than the giving sun.

.

Copyright © by Allison Grayhurst 2025

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

.

Published in “Synchronized Chaos” February 2026

https://synchchaos.com/synchronized-chaos-first-february-issue-tba/

https://synchchaos.com/poetry-from-allison-grayhurst-17/

.

.

First published in “Poesy Place” January 2026

https://www.poesyplace.com/she-a-poem-by-allison-grayhurst

.

.

You can listen to the poem below:

You were born

with the light of a nebula

inside of you, natural

as your loving smile

tortured now by isolation

and a waning strength

that has your commitment

maimed and muted.

But underneath that light still surges,

cannot be snuffed out or ignored.

You are blessed with invincible charm

that takes up a room

and soothes every broken soul.

Do not let circumstances threaten your joy

or hold you in a world you don’t belong in.

Breathe easy and expand, remember your

purpose and your birthright, swiftly

go deep, find the pulse everlasting, knowing yourself,

stretch your arms out, know it and believe.

.

Copyright © by Allison Grayhurst 2025

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

.

First published in “Raven Cage Zine” December 2025

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1KW0UWFfIqyNpYjP2KeJwmAfDqAIlS-ZD/view?usp=sharing

Click to access RavenCageZine99.pdf

You can listen to the poem below:

Ghost

Gone, dripping

down the drain

after a cut.

Gone, the sweet flavour lingering

of maple syrup on the tongue.

Gone like democracy from a land

conquered by a tyrant.

Gone like inspiration from the crushing

overtones, undertones, all-tones

of relentless grief.

Gone like a love that was once unique

as it was necessary, stretching her grace

over my home, my family and my faith.

Gone, and I have gone with it into a blackhole spin –

dream, here, there, no commitment, no connection

to the divine or otherwise, endless spin, inertia.

Here, a film between myself and life,

watching a screen, moving, getting involved

by remembering how, feeling none of it really counts,

feeling myself only playing a worn-out part.

Here, things I knew before

become nothing I know now, vulture-feeding

off my past false understanding, landing

in a heap of wet sawdust, taking forever

to make a move so I don’t make any move

and just sit, watching, not even waiting anymore.

Gone like she is gone,

unreachable, ephemeral,

somewhere else.

.

Copyright © by Allison Grayhurst 2025

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

.

First published in “Winamop” December 2025

https://www.winamop.com/ag2500.htm

.

.

You can listen to the poem below: