the woman knew that questions, much like answers, needed permission to settle on the windowsills, needed windows opened by her own hand before they could climb in on their small, clawed feet.
some of the questions destined for her own life, set aside for the shape of her own days, had almost stopped breathing after years of beating their ragged-breathed wings against the glass.
even only having the courage to allow them in one at a time, even then, waiting for them to find each other, rearranging themselves into a challenge, meeting their eyes over a cup of tea, even then they brought the cool air from that far-off land, that place that held the seeds of what she had been told was not for her.
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but see how everything changes when you turn your ears inward.
© Liezel Graham 2025
liezel graham 
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