Solace.

Endings,

do not frighten me

anymore.

Every night

the sun

whispers

farewell

to the moon,

only to

rise again

with fresh

courage.

— Solace.

© Liezel Graham 2018.

Conversations with my brother (On the eve of chemotherapy).

And so the

time

has

come.

Tomorrow we

straighten

our

spines

and

cast our eyes

up

because

we know

from where

our help

comes.

And

when

the first

fiery

drops

slip into your vein,

silent

and

ruthless,

we speak

life

over every part

of

you

and

death

to that

which

came

in the night

to

steal

and

destroy.

And

I may be

far,

but I will be

near.

And

know this

you are

not alone.

You are

loved.

You are

carried.

And

tomorrow

we stand

and

we fight.

—Conversations with my brother. (On the eve of chemotherapy.)

©Liezel Graham. 2018.

{Tomorrow, my younger brother starts an intense chemotherapy regime for pancreatic cancer. I have written two other posts called ‘Conversations with my brother’ and should you wish to read the others, just search for ‘Conversations with my brother’ and they will come up.}

Wanderer.

I am here,

but not

from

here.

Roots,

plucked

up.

Heart,

held

close.

To

protect.

Me.

I

yearn

to

belong.

To

the people.

To

the land.

To

the waters.

But,

where

do

I

plant

my

words

when

the

earth

does

not

recognise

me.

Anymore.

— Wanderer.

{A poem on being an immigrant, returned to the land of my forefathers. A poignant journey of loss and gain.}

Letting go.

i hung

my broken dreams

on the stars.

one

by

one,

i set them

free.

and now,

here I stand,

empty hands cupped,

waiting for

the new rain.

—letting go.

On turning the pain of loss, into healing.

loss,

has carved

pain

into

my bones.

but,

it filled

my mouth

with

songbirds.

—On turning the pain of loss, into healing.

Raw.

With every

word

that I write,

I remove

another

layer of skin.

One day,

I shall

find myself

again.

—Raw.