I opened the news today and thought, ‘what do I do with this?’ These stories hard to digest for being true. ‘What!’, and ‘why?’ and ‘how?’ – all question defying answers yet hanging in the air faintly as lost souls. I opened the news today, and found it wet with ink dripping, and dark red … More A Poem: Consecrated

When I walk I am half me at that, less even. My eyes look straight ahead, no hindsight. The past mostly a blank, apart from imagination. But when I walk I feel a memory through my ankles, not of shape so much as sense, like rising mist from which I step, not entirely myself – … More A Poem: Half

What-ever takes our breath tends to give it back three fold. What stops the heart, the things that take us unaware, which cause our breath to pause and lungs to hurt; these sudden things which wake us from our slumber, whether of the sublime or painful kind; they are the things we remember for how … More A Poem: What takes our Breath

Why the hurry, and the angst? The questions making tracks to circle upon themselves. What is not complete, answered, clarified, will in a flash too quick for thought be understood. The pieces that now exist separate in pockets and drawers with ill-fitting edges, that they have no partners, will find their place without our help, … More A Poem: Questions

You took me back. Back with your love. Back until there was no space between us. Back, back a thousand million years, and counting. Back falling in time, wind in my ears, from the cross, to the garden. To a garden where we walk like the world is new and fresh, untainted yet by the … More A Poem: Back

I am going to where I can see the sun rise, and round and set. To where the grass lays itself out long and wide, stretches to rest in the lee of hills. And rises to the roots of trees, whose crowns in the sun’s passing gaze turn golden at their edge. I am going … More A Poem: To the Sun

I can see the sun from here, and the moon, ripe and full. I know that you can too, see the moon, and map the stars. Perhaps better than I. Our view depending on perspective. The Maori name for moon is Marama, and the sun is Ra. I know that there are many more names … More A Poem: Ahurewa (Sacred Place)

I am aware of pain, and poverty immeasurable. I know there are enough tears to float a million ships. Enough need to turn our prayers to silence. I am aware of the ‘O’ my lips make when faced with truth. The way my hands wring, and want to unburden themselves of possession. Alleviate this guilt, … More A Poem: Blooms upon the Sidewalk