onto the pages
that i write.
i weep in ink.
— on why i write.
© Liezel Graham 2018.
These last few weeks (on social media) have been really hard.
I have wanted to cut myself off.
From the anger.
From the heartache of women who remain, unbelieved.
I have, instead, decided to write even more transparently — even more bluntly, than ever before.
There are women, who share my DNA and those who are my sisters by the sharing of hearts, and wombs and fears — women not known to me, but whose stories share the same ancient refrain.
Whose voices need to be heard — need to be honoured.
This, is why I write.
You say that I speak of (my) darkness too much.
With my heart stripped bare before your eyes,
my shadows a gift for the
Don’t you know that light that shines too brightly,
the only thing that I have to give to you,
Cracked and fragile;
pain oozing from dark places
that I can’t even see.
But, you do.
and you don’t flinch.
You catch me when I fall;
tenderly you bind me up;
stuff love in the holes,
and stop me from leaking out of
How do you craft such a strong
I wore a lifetime of shame
before I finally realised,
that the poisoned refrain you sang over me,
was birthed from your own fractured dreams.
—I walked in shame, until.
Your story belongs to all of us.
Speak through the pain,
and lay bare the thing that would
Give words to your shame.
It is not yours to carry,
This is how we heal each other.
—This is how we heal.