Growing The Grey

by   Allison Grayhurst


Credit : Google images.

Splendor is stolen.
I call high but I am dammed

to the form of a lesser magic.

In captivity it is harder to communicate

the truth, to find the altar of happiness.

All things have I are stolen.

From a ship dismounted, I landed

and stole. I am always stealing and losing

God, cracking the cup of my direction.

Bodies exist to understand the brutality of loneliness,

to yield first to breath, then to sex and then to death.

When I was a candle I had the courage of a candle.

Planets I once walked upon are dead. Could I have been a child

and now I am not? How is it possible to give up the solidity of imagination?

Take me back through the ice-cross in the skylight, into the glow,

sniffing cool blue-green spores – smells purer than spin.

Caves and stars, coloured covered canvases

melting into unison. Alchemy as I walked, dissolving

into the flesh of constant spring, as I walked,

sprouting the nuclei of many mountains.


Allison Grayhurst  is a full member of the League of Canadian Poets. She has over 290 poems published in more than 170 international journals, magazines, and anthologies.Her book Somewhere Falling was published by Beach Holme Publishers, a Porcepic Book, in Vancouver in 1995. Since then she has published ten other books of poetry and four collections with Edge Unlimited Publishing. Prior to the publication of Somewhere Falling she had a poetry book published, Common Dream, and four chapbooks published by The Plowman.

            Her poetry chapbook The River is Blind was recently published by Ottawa publisher above/ground press December 2012.

            She lives in Toronto with family. She also sculpts, working with clay.


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