This
perpetual
returning.
Of
me.
To
You.
It is a
relentless
love.
— Love(d) relentlessly.
Conversations with my brother. (On the eve of).
And so,
the storm
came
for
you.
Bent,
from the spirit
down
all the way to your
fears.
You
stood,
as wave after wave
sucked the air
from your
lungs.
A new
birth;
in
reverse.
But,
I have come to
plant
seeds
in that
diagnosis.
Hope.
Tender, fragile, indissoluble
hope.
Is a
giver
of
life,
if you will tend it well.
And,
there is something
that they have not
told you,
but I want to mark
your soul with these
words.
There are many ways to
live,
and there are many ways to
die.
And we have
seen
that it is
(im)possible
to spend years
with a beating heart
in a dead body.
And,
bitterness
will curdle
your spirit,
if you tend it well
You,
can
choose
life.
Live,
every,
single,
moment
unwrapping the
gift
of time.
And,
in this
beautiful rebellion
you will
become.
Alive.
— On the eve of.
©Liezel Graham. 2018.
Metamorphosis.
This,
deliberate
u
n
r
a
v
e
l
l
i
n
g
will be the
birth
of
me.
— Metamorphosis.
Let her sing over your fears.
And,
even when
this life is
threadbare;
edges
frayed
from worry.
The earth
still sings a
lullaby
over all those
who listen
for her beauty.
— Let her sing over your fears.
.
.
.
When my heart is full and worry tries to rob me of peace, I look for the beauty all around me.
Early morning mist over the hills, a blackbird singing its song, blackberries exchanging their Summer coats for Autumn attire — Nature sings a constant song of beauty over me.
I find peace in the silence of the woods and meadows.
Nascense.
Hope,
is a
tender
womb
quietly
nurturing
all that is
nascent,
yet still
unseen
within
me.
— Nascense.
When grief led me away.
When
I walked
into
grief,
I became an
unwilling immigrant
to a new country.
My heart
dwells
forever
within
new borders.
— When grief led me away.
Trust.
To
rest
in the midst of
the storm
is a
quiet
rebellion.
— Trust.
