Exit Door Closed

Exit Door Closed

 

 

Down

because the flame is still holy

but the moon’s cold cloak

has won.

Leaning into the crossing over,

sweet exhaustion, the love of

absolute rest.

 

Is this what the fish feels

after minutes on the hook, on the dock,

or the rat gasping in the trap,

lunging, flailing before finding

the peace of death?

 

Fear is not a name, keeps no company with surrender.

Holding the reset rose in my hand. I see colours

that please me, the brush stroke of renewal

and a house true to its inheritance.

 

Every hero eventually dies,

and their mourning is made

into a ritual.

Light of God, kinder than a mother’s wing,

richer than the formation of a new constellation.

 

My arms are enough,

even my meagre successes seem sufficient,

infused with Your light,

taking away the pressure of existence,

keeping pace with duties

and the honouring of dreams.

 

 

Copyright © 2020 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Synchronized Chaos” September 2020

http://synchchaos.com/synchronized-chaos-september-2020-mercy-and-fragility/

http://synchchaos.com/poetry-from-allison-grayhurst-11/

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.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

 

The light has gone out.

The light has gone out.

 

 

Nothing is plenty or even sufficient.

The door opens, but there is no escape

just the long wait under an isolated sun,

walled up in fear and deficiency.

 

It could have been completed, sealed

into the account but darkness hammered

the blush from blooming, and yes, the lesson

to see was written on the Stonehenge, in

the past lives in an ancient Athenian tribe or

when setting five-alarm fires on the moon

when you were a golden muscle, ripe

and violently ending anything soft.

 

Greed gave you all the cards, opinions that

lacked a spiritual dimension. It will not come

until this ecstasy is laid flat.

 

You see – O Tantalus!

You see the stain that created your torment, unearthed.

Walk on it, shed its blood and let it bleed out

its deeply embedded drive and expectation.

 

Hell is individually formed,

a private backyard betrayal.

 

Walk into the shower,

let it cascade down and dissolve this last

unseen-before glitch – see it, wide-eyed

and say ‘forgive me’ say it and

be free.

 

 

Copyright © 2020 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

.

First published in “Synchronized Chaos” September 2020

http://synchchaos.com/synchronized-chaos-september-2020-mercy-and-fragility/

http://synchchaos.com/poetry-from-allison-grayhurst-11/

.

.

.You can listen to the poem by clicking below: