The fear inside
like an untamed wolf,
takes my peace
and the faith that sustains me
when the winter has run out.
I fear tomorrow,
the shape of this ‘till death.
I fear the dream never arriving
and the struggle of survival
being continuous, like a tapeworm
that digests all good things
into its spineless white.
I try to leave this fear and hold
the stronger branch, but it returns
in waves panicked and weary, returns
to take my heart into its circle, cradle
me there like a treasure.
And the path is clear, the path is letting go,
letting in a much brighter trust, brighter still
when all lights are turned out.
(Allison Grayhurst is a poet based in Toronto, Canada; www.allisongrayhurst.com )
The Beautiful Space-