I wish I had stopped to get a photo of that moon!

xx

B.

xx

B.

xx

B.

I wrote this months ago but thought I might get in trouble for posting it.

I guess we’ll find out.

xx

B.

Brilliance from Janet Frame; ‘I take into my arms more than I can bear to hold.’

I’ve been getting lots of messages to send out to you - I’ve been building up my courage…

xx

B.

They laughed and encouraged as the sun
slanted golden across the turf and we shielded
our eyes to see the game but half a step back
I could see everything

For there have been grumbles in our house
about not winning — and stories of another school
stretching the rules and questioning the refs —
(that kind of behaviour gets noticed in a small town)

So we told the boys about the silver medalist we know
who thought she’d return from Tokyo with every problem solved —
but when she got home they were all still there.
She had to sit with herself for a long moment to see that
the dignity and determination she won was always part of her.

And the medalist from Athens who was invited to
visit schools —and went, year after year, and still goes —
relishing something he didn’t expect to find,
part of a rich community that bronze built,
a result far longer than a podium moment.

When the messages from Wellington
are of profit and money and power
(not people, not community, not hope)
I love that these vibrant teachers from Te Kūiti
ignored that dark snarling and continued
giving everything they had with joy
so kids could play in the last sunshine of the day
before the shadows stole back the light
reminding us winter is here
and
people are very often so very good

xx

Brydie

PS Did you know I have a pocket book of poetry available?
https://www.agreatbackyard.co.nz/the-windwhistle-gate

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For my non-Kiwis, the Chrises and Winston are politicians… 🫠

xx

When the kid from noise control
arrived, the night was still young
short sleeves, epaulets, no idea
of the company he was among

Enter MC Rolex, charm personified,
the evening’s distinguished compère
resplendent in floor length white pimp coat
Raglan snake hat and swaggering flair

He swung his coat across the lad’s shoulders
and said - son, we don’t want a barney
he beckoned him close to the decks -
tell me, have you ever met Tiki Taane?

The kid arrived at the front of the crowd
blinking in the bass and the glory
Tiki reached out and shook his hand
while Rolex spun him a story

Can we keep this party going?
asked a DJ, cutting to the chase
and the kid said - I think so -
could you just turn down the bass?

The volume went down — slightly —
and we hooted with delight
as the kid took off to tell his mates
about this extraordinary night

MC Rolex, our lyrical saviour,
words flowing like birds in flight
flicked the white coat from his shoulders —
and draped it around the night

xx

B.

it is like receiving
someone’s heart

this beautiful boy
arrives in our home
with one suitcase
in his hand and
stacked around him
are invisible bags
containing a mother’s worry -

look after my boy

we take him on
walks in the bush
showing him
crashing waterfalls
and cave tunnels

although he cannot
speak much English
he jumps on the trampoline
with my boys for
you do not need
words to play

as dusk settles
and shadows grow
they flip and laugh
inside, we check the news
again and again

the Japanese Prime Minister
visits Trump as the
third-rate minds in Washington
box themselves into a corner
and I know the boy’s mother is
seeing it all

the next day they
feed eels in the creek
ride bikes up the road
clamber up a hill to
watch a pink sunset

we find him sometimes
on the back lawn
looking out at the hills
trying to take it all in -

we leave him alone
to try

all over the world
people are doing the same —
staring at this new reality
unbelieving

this morning we said
our last goodbyes
between rain drops

tomorrow his mother
gets her heart back

the trampoline sits quiet now
the boys have lost their playmate
a week is a long time to drink in
a different world and
a short time to change the
world order

but they have done it
we just have to live in it

x

Brydie

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xx

B

So good to see you!
You look fantastic -
Do you remember when -
God, is that Dave?

Ros flew in from Melbourne -
Who’s that in the red?
His Dad just had surgery -
I’m consulting now -

I slept with him in first year -
They’re not short a penny -
Oh we have rescue dogs -
Is Steve still in Brussels?

The kids are home for the first time -
Why weren’t we friends back then?
His marriage broke up -
Another chardonnay?

I work for the ministry now -
Did you go to the funeral?
Her second husband’s better -
Why isn’t Doug here?

Did you think it would
be different from this?
I guess I did but -
Life had other plans?

I’ve spilt my wine -
I love you guys -
Let’s do this again!
I can’t wait.

xx

30 years is a long time. Funny how we see each other as we were rather than as who we have become.

Brydie

You came here to be
to watch the walls tumble
and break

there was no promise
before you arrived
that you could save them
you knew
what you would find

but when the foundations
shake and you feel fear
on the streets
you suddenly wonder
what can be done

the answer is
nothing

you came here to be
to watch the walls tumble and break
you will find others

like you
apart
witnessing
alone

they may not
have the words
but you will know them
for their steady hands
and their refusal
to run

for it is not really
the crumbling you are
here to witness
but the first cracks
of what lies beyond

you are a new Moses
high on the mountain
catching a glimpse
of the world to come

so fear not
when they stampede
fear not
when the dust descends

there are miracles
afoot now
and that is what
you came to see

xx

Brydie

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but

sometimes grief rolls out of the air
fills up my chest and
I wonder when it has passed
if it was even mine or

the world keening

all the windows and doors are
open between thunderstorms
birds fly in
we catch them

and let them go

a sparrow
a swallow
a fantail -

we hold our breath
but no-one dies -
no-one else anyway

at the cave I meet Minnesotans
white with winter and rage
Good, Good people
I hug the Mom when they go

there is a release emerging
a giving up of what once was
we are ready for the new
just like the birds

they fly in one by one

we set them free

xx

Brydie

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Stay well out there friends.

xx

Brydie

Peace, peace, peace to all.

xx

Brydie

Thanks to Heather Cox Richardson for the fabulous final quote - from S.S. McClure.

Let us have cheerier things soon, but not yet.

xx

Brydie

a school friend calls late
she is a poem
crying into the night
(that’s my opening line)

I reach out to my brothers
attempting a Christmas gathering
everyone is booked
(might throw that verse out)

I take wide-eyed American tourists
through the cave who ask
why do glowworms exist?
(philosophical wondering)

I ask Steve and his Hawaiian shirt
if he’s ever had that question
it could be a deep moment
(but there are no answers)

‘Yeah’ he said.
‘So I asked them
what’s the
point of you?’

no-one can top that
a one-liner
in search of
a riot

In summary:
crying into the night
everyone is booked
philosophical wondering
but there are no answers

(except keep going)

xx

Brydie

PS Thanks heaps for reading and subscribing and reaching out, you’re all lovely!

xx

Brydie

I scoop him up
trembling golden feathers
in the sunlight

meanwhile the body of the
world’s most powerful man
is breaking down

a literal metaphor
for the disintegration
of the world order

the little bird looks up at me
eyes suddenly open, assessing
I shield him from the wind

the old man and the
old ways crumble we
are powerless to stop either

the golden bird sits in my hands
fifteen, twenty minutes
I let him

they say we cannot speak these truths
they say we must praise the dying order
but we shall not

and the little bird flies away

x

B.

― Kobayashi Issa

When Corin’s father Rory passed away last year he left a final wish; get those boys on roller-coasters, and holding koalas.

I almost fell off my chair when Grandma told us the plan. The Gold Coast wasn’t our destination of choice - Corin and I will always choose national parks over theme parks - but it wasn’t about us, so in a flurry a trip was planned.

The whole thing had a feeling of mad unreality about it, and as the weeks counted down, Mr 9 especially was gripped by intense fear of the great Australian unknown. There were many nights spent talking down his fears, snipping pieces off with careful scissors in attempts to make them more manageable.

But then we were away, clutching borrowed suitcases, in desperate need of sunshine. We thundered down roller coasters and patted kangaroos. We splashed along Sunshine Coast beaches and adored Brisbane City, where 50 cents gets you a river ride on the City Cat and the South Bank has all the lizards and playgrounds a kid could ever want.

When we got to the koalas and the kids held them with such obvious delight I suddenly wept, because here was Rory’s dream come true, and I was utterly sure that he was with us, smiling broadly. (I was acutely aware of Grandma too, whose generosity enabled the whole trip. She had earned her own quiet delight for fulfilling Rory’s wish so thoroughly, and you need something comforting like that to wrap around yourself on lonely nights.)

It has been a long time since I have travelled internationally - the last time I still had a paper ticket - and I found myself watching the world from a distance, taking in the mad tourism machine of the Gold Coast, watching the faces, fascinated in the swirling colours and patterns of people.

That sixth sense that allows you to move through new places safely - not something you need in the hills - returned easily, and we passed titbits to the boys, tools to keep safe in a bigger world than they have ever known: in the city at night, stick to the light; cross the street when you find trouble, like an angry man caught in a road rage incident, storming down the road; yes, watch the buskers and the street magic show but watch your pockets too. Look out for that person, they’re mad as a gutter snake, but this family we’re squashed in the elevator with, they’re good, you can relax. This is the world, child, full of flies and Buddhas, and it is for you to learn it all.

Despite the madmen and the grifters, there was great beauty in the seething humanity. I saw many mothers and fathers - Japanese, Indian, Australian, Korean - hugging their children and showing them the splashing water, the bearded dragons, the lights, each so full of love for their little ones and eager to share the world with them. On our last night in Brisbane on the City Cat a father lifted his boy high and pointed out the colours on the bridge. Then he saw the crescent moon - ‘A banana moon!’ he cried. A banana moon indeed. I almost hugged him myself.

Yes, there were moments of stress and things that went awry but it is the moments of kindness I remember. One that stands out was an impromptu visit to the Brisbane Ferrari dealership. The boys hesitated before going in but they were welcomed warmly, offered water - in a labelled Ferrari bottle - and then asked if they wanted to sit in a Ferrari. Crikey! Their smiles were off the charts.

In a world that is descending into fresh turmoil, where terrifying headlines dominate the news, I take great heart in these individual moments of connection. The egos of power that twist our world may be dragging us somewhere dark (dick move, Winston) but in the ordinary people that outnumber them, there is so much good.

xx

B.