i have lived an entire life learning how to say my own name as a gift. — (i am) here. © Liezel Graham 2020. Photograph by Aaron Burden.
a man once told me, if only you were smaller i could love you — more, perhaps, if there was less of you. and if only i had seen just how thin he was, in all the wrong places, and just how little there was to him, and his love, perhaps i would not have... Continue Reading →
i am seeking out all the places where my voice was stolen. leaving poems filled with flowers, in exchange. — on healing (from the past). © Liezel Graham 2018. Photograph by Lisa Fotios. A repost of a poem I wrote last year. It seems right. liezel
and then there was the time . . a lifetime, really. . if i am honest. . and honesty opens the door, does it not? . the time where i gave pieces of myself away. . . my . flesh and bone heart of stone. . allowed my body and my soul to be carried... Continue Reading →
With each pound that falls away a woman increases her worth and less, becomes more, unless you don’t have. But the spirit can shrink too, and there is not enough affirmation in this gaunt world to fill a leaking soul. And there are Mothers who are ‘them’ to our ‘us’ holding the dying hope of... Continue Reading →
I know a woman round and lush and nurturing, who fought a war with her body. Believing that by becoming less, she would become more. Reducing who she was meal by meal until her soul was hollow and still the numbers did not equate with peace. — Scale. © Liezel Graham 2018.
I was left with all these holes in the fabric of my heart, because you could not give me, what you did not possess. But, I nurtured them in silence. Filled them with beauty. And see now, flowers have grown where there once was nothing. — I am no longer hungry for what you could... Continue Reading →
All the things that were ripped from my hands, have found their way back to me. As words. — Loss, has made me fertile.