I am a gramophone on the subject. Each day's same horizon to be faced. You long to fade out into it, yourself. I look doggedly after a missing figure. What to do now is clear, and wordless. You will bear what can not be borne. (from 'He lies somewhere in France.' Somewhere ~ by Denise Riley) Words on grief are everywhere, and yet finding words (to match the particular kind of grief I face every day) are not as abundant. So I was very pleased when someone suggested I read Denise Riley's 'Say Something Back' written in part, after her son took his life. The three weeks I spent as writer in residence at Katherine Mansfield House and Garden, in conjunction with Verb Wellington, was a time of intense pain, unexpected joy and new connections — words can't express my gratitude for having a dedicated space to write each day and the freedom to do so. Delving into all I have written since Reuben died was a mammoth task, and yet somehow I managed it. I've reflected on how people seem to perceive me, and the words they use. My interactions have become more about energetic exchanges and I'm less apologetic for my overflowing tears, or my pressing need to escape back into my cave. Grief is such a universal experience, and yet (as I've mentioned before) our individual experience of grief is just that - unique to ourselves and can not be compared to that of another. Yet, there is solace of a kind, in another's words when you have none. Watch this space, as some toikupu (poems) completed during my residency will be published soon, and a manuscript is taking shape. Kia tau te rangimārie, be peaceful Iona x
One response to “‘Each day’s same horizon to be faced’”
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Time is fleeting and all that we would like to know
or experience will likely miss us.
Yet, we cannot pass by the ‘now’ with it’s entwined joys and sorrow.
We must experience them, even when they do not make sense,
it is the gift of being human.Your words always bring forth my own self contemplation,
my own sorrow and joy to the surface.
In your pain I hear you, in your sorrow I feel you,
in your words, unsaid and spoken,
I acknowledge you.Look forward to your toikupu when they appear Iona.
Much aroha, Rich
Iona Winter 
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