I blend under the covers
to drift by the songbird
though I never reach the songbird
with my mind or my eyes.
I can only melt with the mirror, a strange being
blessed by freedom
but not by much else.
And here I hover – outshone by the beautiful sound
I cannot capture, replanted in a foreign soil,
a death warrant, a challenge of rapture. The angels
have called me. The dark breath has answered me.
It is not enough, under the covers, listening, crushed
by the morning light – my pattern unraveled as though,
for now, I am only shadow. It is not enough to remember you,
to have touched the miracle and for a moment, to have
perfect belief. Because there is chaos in the wake of this beauty,
there is a fall on jagged rigid ground after the swim through
synchronicity, there is the dead bird, broken by
heartbreak, held in my hands, nothing
but hollow bones, and a picture I owned
but lost, of you and me, in black and white,
aged in love, so long ago.
Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. She has over 450 poems published in international journals and anthologies. She has eleven published books of poetry and five collections, as well as six chapbooks and one e-chapbook. She lives in Toronto with her family. She also sculpts, working with clay. Visit her website: http://www.allisongrayhurst.com.