photo: ducks trusting the future in the botanical garden, Wellington
it was a matter of pretending
and everything would be just fine
it was about manifesting tenderness
without thinking of tomorrow
when the hand trembles
one leaves it to the gods
the ground trembles too
and heals from its grievings
photo: flax flowers and their artistic twists, favourite food of tui birds and many other birds, Nelson
we drifted in the wind of others
we lurched, we lurched yet how tender it was
then seasickness in the wind of the waves
one would need to return to one’s own shore
and take refuge on the white sand
in a that cemetery-like kind of peace
photo: when I no longer understand the world, I focus on the miniature world, everything there is perfect: the colours, the curves, the place, Pohara, Golden Bay
and you will see your face
as the sea sees it: wild, marked, whole
you will walk towards the storm with a confident step,
reassured
by the colour of the sky and your testimony
alone and singular
will suffice for this day
Photo: In Pohara, when the day is a little gloomy, yet magnificent. Few people go for their daily walk on the beach, which temporarily belongs to me.
The emotions returned
in his bewildered throat
he thought the sobs had evaporated (a long time ago)
but the emotions returned
in his bewildered throat
before the sea that was resting
in the morning low tide
the sobs were coming from so far away
in his bewildered throat
before the almost resting sea
photo: the evocative power of images, Split Apple Rock, the sky was too beautiful to sleep
We were looking at old photos, a tinge of melancholy, nostalgia, bursts of laughter, we remembered what lay behind the smiles frozen on the glossy paper, we saw the light and time slipping away before our eyes, among the delicate leaves that spoke of summer.
