eclipsing the Wolf moon.
Time is putrid, embracing me
like an impending slaughter.
Can’t stop the attack no matter
how hard I strain, or promise
to defend the purity of my thoughts.
It will come to no good end, going on
to this end, head in a block wrench,
dreams staggering crippled
out of sight.
Come back before
I smash my back
on a long fall down the stairs,
into the darkness, past purgatory,
past the tragically resigned.
Come on, enough of this fated disaster.
For months now I’ve held my own,
held my head high, praised
every morning with directed action.
I can’t go back, picking through the rotting carnage,
pretending, giving energy to the pretense,
when my energy is sacred, belongs
to you O God and nothing else.
Please save me from this hissing atrocity,
this lethal succubus and the flashing behind
my eyes – the gigantic war inside,
knife wielding, piercing, rein-less
and the dark blood pain.
Please O God and Jesus, breathe your light
into me, fully. Let me love you the best I can.
Is there anything I can do? Is there any chance
for a miracle?
The shades are being pulled. The dungeon steps
are steep and I am heading down,
into that familiar filthy chamber.
Please take my hand, O God, lead me
into the open air and say “Go on your way –
you are mine, no longer a stranger.”
Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. Five times nominated for “Best of the Net”, 2015/2017/2018, she has over 1260 poems published in over 500 international journals. She has 21 published books of poetry, six collections and six chapbooks. She lives in Toronto with her family. She also sculpts, working with clay.