August 03, 2020

 

Spiral

 
 
 


I have gone before
                           on the phobic path
                     and in the shallow river.
            And now this present
                           I make to the glorious clown:
A cup of music and a true & lonely cry.
                     Trapped in one life now, clear from
            the beginning, like drawing the long
                     straw no matter the shape of a person's
            lips. I sense the air above, between the outside
                     and me. I am not together. All of a sudden
I feel no shore, no happy bottom. I hope
                     to ring myself of worry, to do cartwheels
                           on train tracks and love the blistered foot.
            I see the endless coil, the ebb and flow
                     of the salty tide. I am learning of ease,
learning to swallow the orange seed,
            to rub shoulders with a new breed        of hope
and open endings.






Article © Allison Grayhurst. All rights reserved.
Published on 2015-12-14
Image(s) © Sand Pilarski. All rights reserved.


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Spiral

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