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November 18, 2024
"Mes de los Muertos"

Water

By Allison Grayhurst


The brightest spot I ever found
has mended the knitted shroud,
has clipped the cloven hoof
and gave heart to the sunless sky.

The brightest warmth inside his eyes
has carried me over the burning meadow,
has placed my head on soft ground and made
the balm to ease my unhealable wounds.

The brightest gift that tore the veil
from my eyes, is tender as a cloud,
is sharp as a pelican's beak,
is the nucleus substance and the tree's
great shadow.

The brightest love that works in us all
comforts me through each trial and chore,
is my laughter, my pear tree growing,
is the unlocking of the latch
to every knocked-upon door.









Article © Allison Grayhurst. All rights reserved.
Published on 2015-09-07
Image(s) © Sand Pilarski. All rights reserved.
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