Let the Joy In

by Allison Grayhurst


What you gave at an age
when you thought thievery was long dispelled.
What was given back was cold and hard as a stone
in wintertime, betrayal without audition,
without remorse.
Click the door, be sure in your sunshine —
what was lost was never had — purity
and courage were not on the agenda, never
graced the soul of one so cruel. Show your
sword and cut the toxin from your torso,
look into its eyes and then be done with it forever.
There is no need to understand why,
no benefit in an explanation. Everything is choice.
You chose to lie on the field so Christ would lay hands on you
in your torment. You chose the meditation floor,
symbols to support your painful transformation.
Everything else is small. The past is small.
The grave is small. Only love survives and what is not love
has no place in your beautiful heart.
What isn’t love, never breathed to begin with.
You need no protection. You need only
what you have.


Copyright © 2011 by Allison Grayhurst

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