Poetry

Reflexivity

to speak words of what we feel; storytelling turns knowledge from inside to outside speak to what of words we feel; turns storytelling from knowledge outside to inside

Oct 31, 20251 min read

Winter

The sky hangs heavy with silence and frost, The world counts the rules, and the warmth feels lost. Where safety once spoke in the language of care, Now fear wears a mask and linger in air. Each morning I wake to a colder refrain, The hum of the headlines etched into my brain. The circle of trust has narrowed and thinned, Even the sunlight now feels disciplined. I sing the forms, I nod, I comply, While something within me learns how to die. They call it protection; I call it s

Oct 31, 20251 min read

The First Day

My aunt brought me here, But is now walking away; I feel abandoned. A woman takes my hand, Leads me inside; To stand on a section of carpet. I am frightened, Nothing is familiar; So much I do not understand. I am surrounded by noise, SO much noise; I want it to stop. Girls have formed a circle around me; What are they saying? I do not understand. Boys in. the background, Boisterously playing; I am scared they will hurt me. I want to run, But my body is frozen; trapped and una

Oct 31, 20251 min read

Summer

The sun shines brighter as the days grow long, A gentle breeze summons my name in a song. I pack up my dreams, my hopes, and my things, Into brown packages, tied up with strings. Leaving behind the familiar sky, Chasing the dawn as I say goodbye. Farewell the sand and the salt in the air, Following whispers of a life elsewhere. As the long and winding road unfolds, I dream and wonder what the future holds. Away from busyness and stress running rife, I yearn for a quieter pace

Oct 31, 20251 min read

Read Me

The following is taken from the Preface of my Master's thesis: "Who's Health Matters? An Autoethnographic Study of Aotearoa New Zealand's Covid-19 Vaccine Mandates" Read me like a country you cannot pronounce but whose soil grows under your tongue anyway. Read me like a story whispered across three continents and four decades, buried in the folds of a mother's sewing machine, between stitches that kept our lives from falling apart. I belonged to no country, just the back sea

Oct 31, 20252 min read

Twenty years have passed

Twenty years have passed since you took your final breath… A lifetime of highs and lows a new life new homes new careers a new city a fresh start Love Loss Pain Pain So much pain I too have danced with death but it wasn’t my time, you said So I carried on, drifting through space not quite here yet not quite there I yearn to see your smile again to hear your laugh to feel your embrace But until we meet again I shall live life to the fullest not me

May 11, 20201 min read