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AllisonGrayhurstPoems
Pathway  . The power and the moon and the bride ducking behind snow banks. Weather, may I have you to own, be reborn in the dead afternoon like a hawk that circles the windless skies? Sleep, with all the dreams and shapes of dreams tucked in your mind like precious stones. I carved you out of grain. I stalked your elusive steps, looking for you at each corner. Down I went sliding into open houses searching for your seed, but your seed was a balloon I could not catch and my child-grip is short, as are my obsessive desires. Too far down is the raging river’s floor - I am carried off. This time I will not panic, but sink and imagine I am growing gills. I will relax the burning in my mind and enjoy the end and then give in to the continuous flow. . . Copyright © 2010 by Allison Grayhurst Published in "Abramelin" , 2012
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Feb 13, 2020
Feb 13, 2020 at 11:14 AM UTC
Pathway
Pathway  . The power and the moon and the bride ducking behind snow banks. Weather, may I have you to own, be reborn in the dead afternoon like a hawk that circles the windless skies? Sleep, with all the dreams and shapes of dreams tucked in your mind like precious stones. I carved you out of grain. I stalked your elusive steps, looking for you at each corner. Down I went sliding into open houses searching for your seed, but your seed was a balloon I could not catch and my child-grip is short, as are my obsessive desires. Too far down is the raging river’s floor - I am carried off. This time I will not panic, but sink and imagine I am growing gills. I will relax the burning in my mind and enjoy the end and then give in to the continuous flow. . . Copyright © 2010 by Allison Grayhurst Published in "Abramelin" , 2012
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Written by
AllisonGrayhurst
53/F/Toronto
Feb 13, 2020
Feb 13, 2020 at 11:14 AM UTC
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