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
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
