Sandbox throughout the vastness

take away the end of time

and I will slide like a globe,

like a planet, bursting stars

as I go, grounding suns and

drowning blackholes in my wake.

I will peel back tomorrow,

compost it into a Sunday secret

gasping for a solitude it will never find

or play-in again.

Take the hunger from Infinity and

I will be open as an abyss, spending money

like everyday is my birthday, my death day.

I will give birth away from

the tempting waters of deception

that conceal choice in hesitation

that drive the mystic to forsaken symbolism,

that pull the spine from its vertebrae, rotating

in one split-second choice,

while looking at it, desiring it, looking like

something worth the price of a soul.

Boredom demands at least a breeze,

at least a far-off flutter to speak the hope

that angels are real.

Take us out of this passageway,

underground mazes, mole homes

that imply safety. The sun is a sea lion.

We will ride beside him and he will coach

us to swerve and flip,

avoid the jellyfish and the stingray.

Meaning will pour like rain on the top

of our surfaced heads –

          a storm, this sickness, just another high wave,   

          just another necessity to dive deeper,

          lungs and cells heavy, heavier

          to avoid the overhead storm.

.

.

Copyright © 2024 by Allison Grayhurst

.

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

Read whole poem:

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

.

.

Melody screeched to a halt,

bubble big, too big, extinguished.

I relinquished my faith for answers.

Gruesomely unattractive

in full sight

in sharp black and white

immutable, I wanted

control like some want pleasure,

like one without restrictions

or moral aptitude.

Demons aggressively demanded my trust

underserved, making up stories

to turn failures into victories.

Hell is the steel-illusion-force of truth inverted

where there is no bowing down to the greater

authority, who is God, in charge,

unpredictable, not a pawn to use to

increase power, not a valium pill

to ease my anxiety while

traversing the treacherous unknown.

In that journey there is only one activity,

only faith resuscitating,

the outcome irrelevant –

a blue streak across a grey sky,

feasting on surrender.

 .

.

Copyright © 2024 by Allison Grayhurst

.

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

Read whole poem:

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

.

I do not know

the treatment

the reasons

for such a grand tribulation

I have only achieved this interval

of a tiny budding joy,

a respite from the imploding friction.

I do not know if it is more than

a respite, if it is a crossing over,

a victory over infection and chronic chaotic influences

but today she walks a little stronger, limping still

but improving her gait.

Today the Earth is this simple location,

open to the angels and to recovery.

I did not expect this calamity, collapse of

every dream, but my eyes are lifting.

I don’t need a massive harvest, just food

enough to sustain and faith enough

for a mild liberation.

.

.

Copyright © 2024 by Allison Grayhurst

.

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

Read whole poem:

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

.

.