Author Archives: Leigh-Anne Fraser

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”

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”

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”

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]”

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”

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”

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 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”

Day 30 you will always be safe with me to unload your heart on a sea of tears or to rage in the last few hours of the day to laugh through the veil to question and share moments of doubt of fear of uncertainty of relief of joy of quiet stillness you will alwaysContinue reading “You will always”

Day 29 I lost three days like pennies falling out of my pocket I have no idea where they have gone If I wore proper glasses I could look in the folds for them under the cushions in the corners turn the living room upside down but they are gone leaving my heart heavy andContinue reading “I lost three days”

Day 28 spring drips cherry blossoms through branches kissed by morning in the light I’m free ~ #napowrimo2019 #poetry