Running, Lightwave Riding
Poem by Allison Grayhurst
Keeping a holy flame close to my chest, in the mornings, deep in the base-line sleep I throw a stone sideways - many pipes are broken, hearts clogged with despair, disappointments and dreams of eternal dreams. Answers start up like old machines, make noise, but cannot be useful or join a continuous flow. Depleted bank accounts, rough-shod carpets and rotting wooden subfloors – all of this is the same, but what isn’t is how I kiss high above, feel myself and all who I love, cradled in divine tenderness.
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