i have always been good at getting lost. the God that I was given never liked this—this knack for running away, this rebellion of falling in love with things that are hidden. i was made this way—shaped in my mother’s womb so softly, with great care. a bent for finding myself in places others do... Continue Reading →
i light two candles, place them on the windowsill in my kitchen, next to the begonia blooming orange it doesn’t know there is chaosout there, somewhere. everywhere. all day, but especially the night when day has drawnher blackout blind and i am suddenlywithout crumbs in the forest, they burn, reflecting all my facesback at me.... Continue Reading →
If you are needing a bit of encouragement today, then I hope that you will rememberthis… Many wars have fought YOU and you have survived them all. You are a beautiful, brave VICTORY SONG. And if you need to come back to these words later, you will find them tagged as Brave Notes.
you are not enoughto feed five thousand. even three has been too much,despite what others see. have you felt a failurebecause of this? even God had to row to the other side of the seato escape. and rest. — you are allowed to put your life down and rest. © Liezel Graham 2020. Photograph by... Continue Reading →
so, your heart is broken and pain has leached the sunlight from your bones. what will you do with this gift? — you can make anything from ashes. even beauty. © Liezel Graham 2018. Photography by Annie Spratt. Yesterday, I shared this poem with a friend whose heart needed a bit of hope, that even... Continue Reading →
the year is dying in my hands and i am filling my apron with a feather for hope, and tiny bits of tumbled sea glass for courage. when the waters rise, they will not wash over me. a pinch of faith, you only need a little, and a quilt of mercy to warm my heart... Continue Reading →
black birds flying darkly up and down the spine of my life. i give them names that sound like light. faith falling brazenly from my mouth. — faith | new names from old. © Liezel Graham 2019. Photograph by Matti Johnson. Sometimes the black birds of fear, shame and guilt will fly up and down... Continue Reading →
on the morning after the day that tiptoes behind christmas relief finds me finally i allow myself to be washed rain falls over me i am turned outside in folded into a new skin once upon a time when i owned all the answers and all the answers owned me i called it praying. —... Continue Reading →