Iona Winter

It’s been a while since my last post, May is a write-off, being the month of Mother’s Day and another birthing day for a no longer living child. I seem to become more of a hermit each year at this time, the build up often being worse than ‘the dates’. May has also been about the final-final-final edits on A Counter of Moons, my upcoming book about suicide bereavement, watch this space.

I’m delighted to share two new poems, recently published with Tarot Poetry Journal, A house of bones and Confessions of importance. Huge thanks and gratitude to editor Kit Willett for accepting and publishing my work. http://www.tarotpoetry.nz/tarot10/

Here’s the audio for both poems, if you’d like to listen.

I said a while back, ‘I guess I’ll always write grief poems’, and that feels true for me. Being the mother of a dead child creates a void that can only be endured. It’s an irreparable thing, this experience that coexists alongside the here-and-now business of living, and in a world that has dramatically shifted in meaning.

My aroha goes out to mothers living with the absence of a beloved child, Iona x