Iona Winter

Category: consciousness

  • Earth Heart (poem & audio)

    This weekend, I worked on a few new things, revising the plethora of work-in-progress; like scouring the bones of a building after a fire. It was a surprise that the words for ‘Earth Heart’ came to me like a download – I love it when that happens. ‘Earth Heart’ reminds…

  • Birthing and grieving

    28 years ago I’d already been in labour for a day, then another before my tama ātaahua arrived. In the old days, we both would’ve died in the process. It was arduous to say the least. Yet this miraculous pēpē I was told I couldn’t have (because of cancer) still…

  • Inhabit

    This post may be seen as contentious, or a myriad of other labelling things. So if you’re someone who thinks that oppression, separatism and exclusion are okay, please feel free to unfollow me. What has become clear is that I can no longer remain quiet, in response to what I…

  • Weaving

    Whenever I gather harakeke (flax) to weave I notice the interconnection of my hands with Papatūānuku and Rangi-nui. I recall the components that nourish the plant, and always leave three rows of growth, to ensure grandparent, parent and child remain intact. Past, present and future all in one moment, standing together.…

  • thorns

    below  she is a crack in the ocean floor vapours billow forth, surfacing above she is a primordial rose magnificent thorns poised to puncture outside she is a stain from the cat-caught-bird whose enduring feathers survive inside her water-blood-molecules-life shelter a temple of moon-babies and secrets

  • Stones

    how do i ignore the stones that amputated pieces of me my hair morphing from russet to grey deciduous trees unaware of the fall a faceless journey devoid of purpose tarnished thoughts litter landscapes of ashen ground countless stones that i carry rest mottled upon my spine

  • the three

    life love loss exactly the same regardless of where they sit be it lap or throat all three peel back the folds of me exposing a core of bruised and hidden truths

  • waterfall

    unobscured mists met the junction of my skin lovingly constriction becalmed   a waterfall-salve of rivulets ran thick with purpose and the promise of you (Picture taken at McLean Falls, Southland, Aotearoa)      

  • moth-wing

    I listen to moth-wings beat against paned glass while rain taps the iron roof and stars are extinguished for the night i recount my deepest fear that i would drown and leave you bereft i remember galaxies familiar as my freckled skin the dust of which has shaped us i listen to moth-wings beat    …

  • Narcissus

    Spring flowers. And those who speak in swathes—almost entirely about themselves. Scented-sweet, until their dripping sap prickles at my skin and feels ugly. Envy marks me, before I am cast adrift. For I cannot reinforce their purported-truth-precipices. Lost reflections, too fathomless to acquiesce. Spring flowers.