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.