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.

On raising a boy.

I rub

gentleness

into your skin

every day,

so that the one

who loves you

one day,

does not have

to peel back

the layers,

to find your heart.

—On raising a boy.

Don’t give up.

Whatever you’re struggling with tonight—do NOT give up!
Just keep at it. Keep chipping away at your goal.
And, you will get there, and the victory will be that much sweeter for the struggle.

Walk a mile.

I was going to

tell

you

how to walk

this road,

but then I found

that

your shoes

didn’t fit

me.

—Walk a mile.

A gentle reminder—feed your family, first.

I am a writer, poet and a blogger.

There is no greater joy than having a piece of my writing accepted for print, or hearing that someone was touched by one of my poems.

Writing is a healing process for me, but sometimes it feels as if I spend my day flinging snippets of myself all over social media—Instagram, Twitter, Submittable, my website and Facebook—all in the hopes that some of it will take root somewhere, and grow.

And in that process, where I am feeding the world—feeding myself to the world—my family starve, because they don’t get the best of me. They are the ones who deserve the very best of my time and my presence.

So, my heart today is to remind you, no matter WHO you are, remember to feed the most important people in your life first.

Everything else will then fall perfectly into place.

Much love,

Liezel

[On mothering] Autism.

I walk before you,

always searching for

the danger

that you will never see;

or,

anticipate.

I walk next to you,

always with your hand in mine,

even now as time,

mercilessly,

changes you into a man.

My mother’s hands

will hold you,

for as long as I can.

This,

I promise.

I walk behind you,

to let you go;

just a little.

Just

a

little.

My tongue is never still;

always interpreting this bright, noisy,

overwhelming world;

for you.

Helping you make sense of

this beautiful,

never-ending

assault

on your senses.

My mouth is never quiet;

always interpreting your bright,

quirky flappiness

for the rest of the world.

Hoping,

that through my

fluency

they might see,

you,

and walk in kindness.

They don’t always understand;

the beauty

of you.

My eyes are always searching;

searching,

always.

For

just

a glimmer of kindness;

somewhere.

My hands are strong;

toughened.

From holding on;

fiercely clinging

to hope.

Where sometimes,

it feels like

there is none.

My heart holds more love

than I ever thought

possible.

This muscle grown strong

from loving you;

without condition.

Grown strong,

from standing up

to threats.

And there have been many.

And even on days where

my heart

is cracked

from the weight

of dreams,

broken,

I still count it all as

beautiful.

This gift

of

you.

—[On mothering] Autism.