does the sparrow count her worth, in seeds found, at the end of the day? a tallying of numbers lining up with avian goals to achieve, until the figures nod approval to her existence, or does she simply rest, content, with full belly in her warm nest, a life lived. — (self)worth. © Liezel Graham... Continue Reading →
before life, there was simply darkness and quiet and ocean and peace, and i wonder how many times God has wanted to press undo, to return to that original template. — sacred regret. © Liezel Graham 2018.
did you know that hope can fall like an oak leaf in october, slowly dancing its way to death as it is let go of, and be reimagined rebelieved rehoped in the spring. — a metamorphosis of hope. © Liezel Graham 2018.
october, i want to pick you up by your crisp russet edges, inhaling your heady fragrance of mould and decay, and tuck you into the breast pocket of my coat, within beating distance of my heart, a reminder of how to let go. — talisman. © Liezel Graham 2018.
perhaps, if we all spoke plainly of our winter, we would have no need to search hungrily for another’s spring, if we could tell openly of the taste of the red dust of our desert, as it chokes the throat, we might be rain, soft and soothing until life blooms gently in barren places, again.... Continue Reading →
travelling home on the motorway yesterday, i saw an arrowhead of flying geese puncture the tangerine twilight sky with their pink feet, and an ancient desire to turn their backs a half a circle on the familiar of their icelandic home, in search of more, and i was in awe at this fierce courage. —... Continue Reading →
and still, you bloom wild courage in a thousand little ways, in spite of your winter. and isn’t that a miracle? — on living brave. © Liezel Graham 2018.
the wild cherry tree that stands sentinel below my kitchen window, had until today, lost all her leaves, but two. and all morning long i kept watch over her labour as i rinsed the remains of give-us-our-daily-bread from plates, and somewhere between brewing tea and folding laundry, she let go of the last signs of... Continue Reading →
i undresed my anger and found grief hiding, naked and neglected. — mask. © Liezel Graham 2018. ...and it’s important to add, that when I speak, or write of grief, that I personally include, loss. And that is what I am trying to convey here, that loss — especially in childhood when one doesn’t always... Continue Reading →
i woke up this morning with joy, a dead bird within my chest. she just lay there. curled up, a weight of dead feathers; throat silent. and i wanted to mourn her, rail angrily against the poisonous seeds that had stolen her. cancer. depression. death. fear. anger. loneliness. foreignness. distance. and all the dark things... Continue Reading →