It has been 36 days since I started working from home. I didn’t start when the many others day a week before because I work for an essential service, but when it was decided it was best for those who could work from home to do so, I packed up my work, set up anContinue reading “peace of mind and a Nan blanket”
Author Archives: Leigh-Anne Fraser
any ordinary day project
I started a project that I am calling ‘any ordinary day’ not so long ago, in an effort to redirect some anxiety and stress that I was feeling while in lockdown due to Covid-19. I am not sure how well it is doing to help me, but I am enjoying sharing some black & whiteContinue reading “any ordinary day project”
change
my face reflects in the window blue lit gaze my fingers move across keys while I watch the rain the days blur into each other even checking the calendar can be dangerous I counted three times before I was sure that sixteen days had passed water drops mix with fog on the glass I tapContinue reading “change”
enough
I turned just far enough in my chair to see through the window to the trees outside as the storm pounded the concrete with surprising fury lightning cut the sky into white ribbons thunder echoed between the buildings I thought not moving about where I stored the candles should the power go out again whatContinue reading “enough”
apology
I wandered the unused path heavy and overgrown looking for small opportunities to see sunlight overhead something to guide me forward but each step betrayed me drawing blood warning root and stone to hold me still night apologized for truth only opportunity the past undressed bare, empty unwritten by the moment do you remember? theContinue reading “apology”
union
rising with the breath to sit in between that one and the next a conversation born in the swell under the wide evening sky nothing to hold wind through my fingers the day rests on the horizon slipping beneath the rolling sea your words land like the crashing waves on jagged rock worn by yearsContinue reading “union”
[yellow notebook]
still has the price tag on the back neon orange sticker warning me that for a $1.99 broken wounded lines will scatter themselves in black ink visible in the sunlight scrawled over torn pages until the crisp cover is worn down a hundred days of verse upturned by the rage of existence separate me fromContinue reading “[yellow notebook]”
swift
I wake before the sun again listen to the passing train wind its way into the city through the trees and sleeping streets to greet the downtown blue-violet sky not ready yet to welcome the soft pale pink tendrils of morning into its grasp pull the blankets around me against the chill a few momentsContinue reading “swift”
anything to say
I threw down the dusty bag untied the cord and pulled the fabric wide golden face of the sun, white orchids and blue morphos greeted me, a whisper of what remains unsaid old photographs, half-finished stories, unsent letters fill the darker folded corners and I, I am left still looking to see if I haveContinue reading “anything to say”
50 before 50
It seems like a lifetime ago now, but it has only been ten years since my last birthday project when I wrote forty stories before I turned forty. To honour my fiftieth birthday next month, I decided I would put a gallery together of fifty pieces of art that I created before I turned theContinue reading “50 before 50”
I did not ask
I did not ask After the sun had left For anything Not in the darkness Or the darkest part of the night As the rain fell outside And sirens wailed Somewhere in the streets I did not ask one word In the stillness Within the walls of Concrete and plaster But I lay within listeningContinue reading “I did not ask”
writing poetry in the waiting room
writing poetry in the waiting room worn seats in lines bland taupe comfortless oblivious to the pain and discomfort of others I wait for my child’s return alone in a quiet corner somewhere a doctor watches over them does what I cannot do heal, find answers or more questions all I can do is wait Continue reading “writing poetry in the waiting room”
