Every Height I Fall

Allison Grayhurst


Every Height I Fall


Must I be dark as the

vacant church at

night where many have

pleaded and died – bodies

in heavy caskets, silenced forevermore?

Must I be there, against the storm-cloud,

frightening the pretty blue-jay and the boy

in his rocking chair?

Must it always be the crushed beetle, the Earth

sick from human greed and the spinal joint maimed

from not enough love?

Up and down the pillar of eroded dreams

the years are thread strings lit afire by bickering

and cracked homes.

Must the TV be always turned on

and the soft features of grace

be trampled on in every

perfect garden?



Copyright © 2004 by Allison Grayhurst




First published in “In Between Hangovers”, April 2017 



You can listen to the poem by clicking below:


“Allison Grayhurst intertwines a potent spirituality throughout her work so that each…

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