Poetry By Liezel Graham

When I was 
nine,
I watched you 
fall
apart.
Your spirit;
broken.
Voice;
silenced,
as life bled
red,
all over my splintered
heart.
And now,
what remains 
are memories
that strangle,
and only
yield,
reluctantly,
to the cheap peace
found
at the bottom of
my glass.
— A childhood fractured.




The way that you
cover
all my jagged edges
with mercy.
Filling 
all my cracks
with grace.
Allowing me to love
myself.
Again.
—How we should love (on second chances).




If the child 
deep within
your skin 
is weeping,
sit with her
in sorrow.
Rub kindness into
her wounds.
Sing love
over her fears.
This, 
is how you will
both
heal.




And despite it all,
my heart kept on
beating.
A quiet reminder,
that I,
was not over.
yet.
— I am strong(er).




Sometimes,
I sit awhile 
with sadness;
my oldest friend.
Both of us
fluent,
in the silent
language of tears
— Healing.


​

...these words
in my 
blood
must be given
life,
or they become
visible
on my skin;
scars that
speak
on my behalf.
— On why I write.

​

Liezel Graham lives in Scotland with her husband and son. She writes poetry about loss, mental health, postnatal depression, bulimia recovery and recovery from a chaotic childhood. Espresso gives her superpowers and silence is her oxygen.

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