How many years before I arrive (guided as I am)
to the cliff, before I accept the fear, this view
as only a snake protecting my yard or as a way to keep me
ringing the bell? When was the last time a stranger
altered my octave, drove me, drum, drum
at the heels of some extreme belief?
This flesh is like oil paint that only sanding can clean.
My path is wanting.
I am with water, but no wave. I feel the water,
heavy as an avalanche,
soiled by so many fruitless beginnings.
But death will come, and the dust
that has already caked over my exuberance
will not be queen.
I will ride again unchanged, but this time
at sunrise, upon my beautiful horse, without
bridal and chain. I will regain mastery, pound at
the hot grass, at this constant edge –
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.