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gifts.

October 10, 2018 ~ liezel graham

i have never heard

the blackbird’s song

filled with malice, and

the mute swan ever

dips her graceful head to me

without asking payment, for

this quiet, healing

grace.

— gifts.

© Liezel Graham 2018.

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Posted in Poetry Anxiety Contemplative Prayer Gratitude Grief Healing Hope Inner Healing Inner peace Life Love Mental Health Nature Peace Poetry Seek the Joy The important things in life Writing

Published by liezel graham

poet. storyteller. lover of words. seeker of healing. always searching for more. find me in the woods, or at the ocean’s edge, if only in my head. View all posts by liezel graham

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i remember the early sleep-shy days, when i stepped wide-eyed into motherhood; my breasts full of milk for my son’s hungry mouth, and how the cry of another woman’s child — any child, anywhere, would cause my milk to flow. and how i couldn’t hide this new softness to my body, this revolutionary response to a child in need. any child. my body didn’t care — didn’t ask for proof, or identity papers, or history lessons. a cry was enough. and how have so many mothers forgotten this — that every child, is my child, when they are hungry, or afraid, or locked up behind wire fences. and how easy it is to cross a border from soft to hard. and i wonder how long it takes to harden a heart. and whether it can ever be undone. . — borders. . © Liezel Graham 2019. . Photograph by Icon0.com. . . . #poetry #poetryporn #poetrycommunity #borders #refugees #motherhood #wotd #words #potd #spilledink #spilledthoughts #iweepinink #liezelgraham #indiepoet #indiepoetry #guerillapoetry #speakout #poetsofinstagram #amwriting #amwritingpoetry #useyourvoice #useyourheart #politicalpoetry

shall i leave my words in the softness of your neck, or here, where your mouth curves up to smile at me, or perhaps over here, in the valley between your shoulders. tell me. where do i plant my love so that i can lie down in fields of you. . — my hands are full of love. . Photograph by @surreyhillswellness . . #lovepoetry #love #lovequotes #woman #words #wordsmith #poetry #poetess #poetrycommunity #poetsofinstagram #potd #poetryporn #spilledink #spilledthoughts #iweepinink #beautifulwords #liezelgraham #liezelgrahampoetry #relationships #indiepoet #indiepoetry #honesty #blackandwhite #rawwords #theliteralscript #poeticthoughts #writersclub #poeticsoul

around the corner, in the street where i live, . a climbing rose, the colour of the sky as the sun makes love to the evening light, . just once more before she leaves, . spills boldly over the safety of the fence . where she could have stayed small and hidden, . but didn’t. . throwing herself at narrow-eyed commuters walking hurriedly to the bus stop, and . children, on their way home from school, boisterous in their freedom, eyes fresh on the weekend only, and . happy dogs that run past this perfect offering of pink, but who don’t care much for roses, and . tired mothers, who once did care . for pretty things, and making love, . but whose eyes now chase small children . and also . all their lost dreams. . and perhaps roses are from a different life, . before. . and also me, . when i walk past that fence, in wonder at her glorious . unrepentant beauty, . and how she dares to seduce me shamelessly, . wide-eyed into joy, . right here in the middle of the day, . not caring whether i fall in love with her, or not, . but i do, . oh, how i do! . — how to be seduced by life. . © Liezel Graham 2019. . Photograph by Valeriia Miller. . . #poetry #woman #wordsmith #words #potd #poetryporn #liezelgraham #spilledink #spilledthoughts #iweepinink #indiepoet #indiepoetry #poetrycommunity #livemorebeauty #livemoremagic #joy #beautyinthedetails #fallinlovewithlife #pink #chasebeauty #instapoetrygram #instapoetry #instapoets #beautifulwords

when i say, . i am going into the woods today. . i am not saying, . . please, . i am lonely. come with me. . . i am saying, the sycamore, is calling my name and i must go. . i have work to do inside my heart; . these rooms don’t clean themselves, you know. . and somehow, . once again, they are filled with other people’s . things, . discarded and unwanted, that i, . magpie that i am, have picked up with my bare hands, . enchanted by the shine, and carried home, . only to find fool’s gold cluttering up my peace, but . the trees know how to let go of dead things, and . i am going into the woods today, . please, do not look for me. . — when the sycamore calls my name. . © Liezel Graham 2019. . Photograph by Will. . . . #poetry #naturepoetry #natureporn #poetryporn #spilledink #spilledthoughts #liezelgraham #potd #words #wordsmith #sycamore #poetrycommunity #poetsofinstagram #indiepoetry #iweepinink

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