a small story of muddy waters and how to swim them

‘…the things that i have walked away from, still speak to me at night, often they don’t know how to do anything but weep. i don’t fight this. i let them mourn what they have lost. still, right in the middle of this body, my body, there lives gratitude—quiet and softly spoken, her hands always held out for more. ‘please‘ and ‘thank you‘ grows in my mouth like richly-watered moss. my words are always asking for more, because i know there is more, and i know that things wait to be asked, wait to be called—to be invited over. this is how i see faith. there are good things out there, lots of them, and i want to experience them in all their fullness, and so i open my mouth and i call them over, invite them in, and before they have even put on their travelling shoes, i start to prepare a place for them inside my chest. i say, ‘thank you for coming!‘ i say, ‘i am waiting for you‘. i say, ‘look! i have already rearranged the furniture so that you will be comfortable in your new home! you are welcome, you are so welcome!…

{an extract from a prose piece, ‘a small story of muddy waters and how to swim them’ in my new book that i am currently editing the manuscript of}

© Liezel Graham 2022

Images can be found on Unsplash by following the links on each photographer’s name: Eduardo Gorghetto, Laura Landers, and Jeff Finley.

sharing this wee snippet from a much longer piece that i am editing at the moment. i hope it finds you quietly, but enthusiastically, calling the things that you want to see, by their names – welcome them, and make a place for them.

i hope your monday has been kind!



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