an Aotearoa poetry journal | ISSN 2744-3248

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Tarot #07
Tarot #06
Tarot #05
Tarot #04
Tarot #03
Tarot #02
Tarot #01

Forgotten Paths

  1. These forgotten paths lead nowhere obvious, but invisible creatures scurry and make their kōanga nests.
  2. Later, I walk on pavements between parliament beehives and insurance company skyscrapers, with everyone suited up in masks and avoidant gazes, and hipsters with seven-eight-length trousers pressed just right.
  3. I watch the flap of a manu wing in the breeze; the remainder lies squashed on the bitumen. I sit still, inside the tornado that swirls around me amidst the noise, avoiding the elephant in the room – my son’s death. It’s as though I’m in another dimension, which I suppose in many ways I am.
  4. Sometimes I feel like I’m about five, when the mamae hits. It’s like when you’re a kid and you don’t understand what it was you did wrong, you’ve been told off and it hurts, but none of it makes any sense. It feels like it was yesterday that you died – not thirteen months later.
  5. Armour turns your whole body into a patu, and I ask myself does being a crone mean that my only child had to die? How often do I compensate for others when they are faced with my grief? What the hell do people mean, when they say you’re looking really good?
  6. Outkast’s Hey Ya, playing on the cafe stereo, reminders of you everywhere, your joy with music and how you always memorised the lyrics.
  7. I never had a daughter, but I had a son and the mārama shone out of him from the moment he was conceived. Now he’s gone, in the space of a heartbeat, and his light can only shine through those dimensions accessible, when I’m fast asleep.