Scale.

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.

The places I cannot go, yet.

I am

a house of

many rooms.

Quiet, dusty corridors

sunlight

gently

dripping in

like liquid

gold.

How I love to drink my tea,

a lovely Assam,

malty on the tongue

and comforting,

as I walk through

these spaces

gently touching

things

I had

almost

forgotten.

But not

yet.

It is comforting

to find

old friends.

You,

and you,

and even

you.

We must stay in

touch,

I say

to the past.

But

some doors

are

locked.

In dark corners

where the

light

does not

quite

reach.

And try as I might

when I stand before them

trembling key in

hand

I cannot enter.

I cannot enter

though

I must.

There is

work

to be done

within,

but not

yet.

And so,

instead

I sit before them

quietly

weeping

ink

onto paper.

Until.

— The places I cannot go, yet.

© Liezel Graham 2018.

Facing your giants

You cannot

do

the hard work

of

healing,

until you have

grappled

with

honesty.

About them.

About yourself.

Until then,

you will

forever

return

to a place of

brokenness.

Honesty, is the key.

To healing.

To freedom.

— Facing your giants.

.

.

It has been a hard, hard week for me on so many levels. And this… this is where I am. Facing my giants.

Healing is hard work.

It’s dirt-under-your-fingernails, relentless work. And it requires a deep commitment to honesty.

About the ones who have hurt you, and about yourself — particularly if you have tried to escape past hurts by addictive behaviours.

It all starts with honesty.

The sacred no.

No.

We are so afraid to say it.

We fear rejection, anger, disappointment, criticism and a host of negative responses, but what we should really fear is the slow erosion of self when we don’t honour our own boundaries.

No, is a sacred word.

Honour it.

Beauty from ashes.

so,

your heart is broken,

and

pain has

leached the sunlight

from your bones.

tell me,

what will you do

with this extraordinary gift?

—beauty from ashes.

Purge.

…and i lost

the weight.

beautifully battle weary;

wearing hunger as my badge.

eviscerating my soul.

peeling back my skin,

layer by layer.

just to fit in.

…and i gained

the weight.

becoming fat with

failure.

and yet,

my breath did not end.

—purge.

On seeking inner healing.

peace

in my bones.

this is

my gift

to you.

—on seeking inner healing.