…hungry, soft bodies, have always been returning from the desert with news of their God, of how they were loved, and met, and fed, and accepted, and other hungry, soft bodies, filled with their own certainty, have always been waiting for them at the gates, on hearing the tender, new-born stories, offering only:

‘…no! no! no! that is not my God and so it cannot be true. away with you, and away with your lies…’

and even on the edges, even right there, in the absence of any other human, i find God—always right there, waiting, and me, of the fearful heart, the one who knows how to get lost, not needing another soft body to reflect his presence back to me first, and though the centre might fail, though the middle of my life might cave in, i am always held by the edges, and i hold it all and count it grace, never falling further than that soft word, love.

© liezel graham 2024

{ …to hold it all, and count it grace…}

this little piece is stitched on black linen, to which i have attached a vintage white linen handkerchief, that faced, either being thrown away, or having its middle removed in a defiant act of choosing beauty through second chances.

and this is what my life has been… always returning with stories of God, finding soft bodies who might listen and tell me theirs in return, and though the endings might look different, i know that we are loved, and we are loved, and we are loved.

everything else has gotten lost in translation because we are soft, fallible bodies who, much like children, always want to be in charge of the games we play with others.

go inward.

if you find yourself in the desert, know that God isn’t far away.

in time, i found, by yielding to that love, even the backstory of my life was made beautiful.

x

this piece is in search of a new home.