Summer time

Sand under our fingernails, skin freckled and flaking from constant hours spent under the sun.

The water pools around our feet, we sink into the sludge. The smell of salt is bright and fresh, bird wheel overhead.

Rusty tins filled with stones, flax woven in strips. A tiny hook topped with last night’s left-over sausages. Dangled seductively into the river.

The eel watches us. Beedy eyes peer out from under the reeds. He is fast. He is swift. Like an arrow, splicing the water.

A tease. A taunt. Back to his hole. Plan foiled again. We share the sausage between us.

Fanta

Morning

I was warm and cosy. 

You, gracefully ambled your way through my door, 

Snuggling affectionately beside me.

A small volcano erupting in your chest.

Tears fall down my soft cheek.

Tomorrow I will be without you.
The morning sun peeks from behind the curtain. 

Death arrives on two legs.

Curled up,

Expecting nothing,

Silence, shattered from my sobs.

Good bye. 

Lily

A crashing tidal wave that rippled for months.

Beating both medicine and biology to join, so loyal to our family from day one.

Nine months of endless surges of sea-sickness, endless tears, endless pain.

Disbelief. Just months after your sister’s birth.

You arrived under a glowing moon, no easy swell or waves to ride.

Big dumping waves. Bold full stops of pain, under a glowing moon.

Over before the sun rose, quick and terrifying.

A bundle of energy, never still, never quiet.

Long sweeps of your downy temple calming you, as our breath became one.

Days, endless, never-ending days, spent rocking, shushing and swaying.

You and me. A constant blur of movement, undulating like the sea.

My pāua baby.

20170130_104100

(Inspiration: Daily Post prompt: survive. Allllll we did in the first two years of Lily)