I was that man
climbing the stairs to the hospital room, that man
with wavy brown hair and open eyes.
I used to live near the moors where
I would go to re-enact Thomas Hardy fables,
choked with the sorrow of outcast women.
I was that man never reaching the room,
never able to mourn except on paper.
As that man, I dreamt of India –
one day I would go, be under its large, unusual sun,
maybe hold hands with a beautiful deity.
As that man, I never went to India, I died
too young.
As that man, I remember a split in my soul,
the violent burn of uncontainment.
And I remember the feel of bare feet
slowly walking across wet moors.
Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. She has over 550 poems published in international journals. She has eleven published books of poetry, seven collections, seven chapbooks and a chapbook pending publication; www.allisongrayhurst.com.
I Think I Was is a post from: Straylight Literary Magazine