Lighthouse Gone Under By Allison Grayhurst

At the end of a dream, after the burning down,

is a sorrow, there and fixed

like a blockage to ensure failure of the flow

like a broken pipe,

letting flood the lighthouse tower.

It will drown the lighthouse,

even the tip and the ancient bricks below.

And in sinking and dispersing its form

under the water’s pressure it will make a coral bed

for otherwise homeless creatures.

It will make an underwater greenhouse, a place for

tiny beings to hide, find shelter and explore.

It will go on longer down there, below the surface,

go on past decades, generations and nuclear explosions.

It will not be recognised for the tower and steady guiding light

it once held, but it will morph into a thriving community.

Its concrete flesh will grow breathing skin –

slippery green living follicles. It will endure

the winters above and the blank-eyed predators

maneuvering through its make-shift corridors.

This sorrow will take and it will be final.

And then it will give,

infusing a richer purpose, nurturing beating life

into the landscape of its shattered,

now restructured, bones.

About Allison Grayhurst:

Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. Five times nominated for “Best of the Net”, 2015/2017/2018, she has over 1200 poems published in over 475 international journals and anthologies. She has 21 published books of poetry, six collections and six chapbooks. She lives in Toronto with her family. She is a vegan. She also sculpts, working with clay; www.allisongrayhurst.com