for a few days
after
a surgeon takes a scalpel
to my body,
i am forced
to grow
still.
i am not made for this.
i fight
to move
to stand up
to change my life
without needing any help.
there are mountains to climb
and a valley
to find my way out
of.
it hurts.
they said it would
take
time
that i do not know how to give.
but every slow-gold afternoon
after we have had our lunch
and
after i have filled my pockets
with plans,
my son carries his pillow,
blankets,
bears.
into my room
where he climbs
onto my bed,
curls up
softly
into the roundness of my hip
the quiet place that
only he knows
as home.
i am this
to him.
still.
his breath warm on my shoulder,
a whisper
…isn’t this nice, mom?
— after the scalpel.
© Liezel Graham 2019.
Photography by Annie Spratt.
liezel graham 
Beautiful poem 🙂
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Thank you very much!
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Your book arrived today! I have read as much as I can hold in a single reading. I have certainly read many genius poets including Mary Oliver, Emily Dickinson, Ursula Le Guin and of course Maya Angelou to mention only a few. I have remarked to myself, or another, how worthy their pieces are of praise. But this first body of published poetry by you defies more words. Your work is so exact and so alive it vibrates with emotion and it would be superfluous to add more words even in praise. Your talent goes beyond artistry; it is destined. Pain that is transformed into courage, that is transformed into breathtaking beauty is its destiny. Brava,Leizel,Brava!
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Suzanne, thank you. I feel completely overwhelmed by your words.
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Your poems are no less “borne” than your son was; they feel that intimate; that powerful. When I read them they trigger my own writing. Isn’t it wonderful to always have “our friends the words” living with us.
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I love that they inspire you to write! That is such a gift to me.
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It is a gift we both receive!
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