If the Silver Birch, when Autumn whispers, can undress herself discarding all that no longer has life, laying bare the starkness of her bones without a thought for any opinion. Then so shall I. — Stripped. © Liezel Graham 2018.
Beneath these layers, there is someone I used to know. Familiar as I am with all her buried hopes, from before life happened, I am now tenderly wooing her with the peace that comes with strong bones. — She, who I once was. © Liezel Graham 2018.
With each pound that falls away a woman increases her worth and less, becomes more, unless you don’t have. But the spirit can shrink too, and there is not enough affirmation in this gaunt world to fill a leaking soul. And there are Mothers who are ‘them’ to our ‘us’ holding the dying hope of... Continue Reading →
I walked into the woods seeking the proud Oak balding in the soft sigh of Autumn. He does not demand anything from me, for we are old friends. and this, is (my) peace. — Exhale. © Liezel Graham 2018.
The marriage fractured after their little girl’s death. He needed a new house in which to start over. She could not leave the place where her daughter drew both her first, and last breaths. And on still days the old tyre swing would move to the peal of a child’s laugh. © Liezel Graham 2018.
We measure our days quietly learning about Whales and how much they love their babies, parting the sea to bring forth new life, singing mystical lullabies until all the salt water in the deep wounds of the earth implode with love. This, is the deep work of the womb. — On how my heart loves... Continue Reading →
You say that I must write it all down and let my life fall all over this undefiled sheet of paper in a healing rain but I am trying to stem this flood from breaching my rib cage, because we are not ready for this purge. — Salt from my bones. © Liezel Graham 2018.... Continue Reading →
The way that the sky tenderly holds up the clouds even when they storm furiously across his gentle surface a pellucid background always allowing the stars to shine brighter than him cradling the moon in his arms when she’s waning and holding her up proudly for the whole world to see when she’s full wearing... Continue Reading →
My neighbour has a three-legged, chocolate brown Border Collie. Every afternoon I stand at my window and watch her exuberant, lopsided joy as she discovers the familiar route of her daily walk, once again. If she could talk she would tell you of a long line of hard-working ancestors who helped bring order to the... Continue Reading →
This familiar heaviness in my bones that will not be unsmiled undone unwanted, yet leaves me with fields of words to harvest. An offering in exchange for the silent weight of all this water escaping from my cells. — The weight of salt water. © Liezel Graham. 2018