-
Belonging
I have wrestled with the concept of belonging for many years. Since leaving my South African home at age 23, I have been singled out as not belonging. In NZ, in the UK, and now Australia. And I guess it bothered me enough to write about it endlessly and withdraw into myself on enough occasions. Then, a few years ago, I met up with a journalist who was writing about her own explorations into belonging. We drank our herbal teas and shared experiences instead of chocolate cake, and it was enjoyable enough to say we’d stay in touch. But somewhere between saying goodbye and driving home, I had an unexpected…
-
Whale Procession
WHALE PROCESSION I drowned in squid ink landed on the ocean floor Clouds of sand engulfed me like the jaws of a great white An army of jellyfish passed overhead- a beautiful funeral procession ~~••~~ Once death settled my essence hovered-a reluctant apparition I felt the starfish twitch beneath me Spied sea dragons rocking to and fro in the current ~~••~~ A school of parrot fish swam past and a sea urchin opened its door ~~••~~ Then, Silence as long as a pier. ~~••~~ That hovering essence transmuted Effervescent A tiny whirlpool above my chest primed for the ocean to siphon ~~••~~ And then, the sound of whales calling…
-
Rainbows
'Tell me about rainbows,' she said. 'The sky is happy,' I said. 'Was it sad before?' she said. 'Perhaps. The rain can do that you know? Flood your roots. Destabilise you momentarily. But no matter how angry the storm, and soft our sadness, the rainbow is a universal promise that every raindrop has a reason, and the light is never out of reach.' ~ Bianca Bowers Photograph and Words © 2017 Bianca Bowers
-
Metamorphosis
So, I lost 3 years of web content yesterday when switching host companies. I have no idea what happened. After all, I’ve done this before. Now that I’ve had my mini-meltdown and a new day has dawned, I’ve decided to view this as an opportunity to start afresh and not expend anymore energy on trying to retrieve the past. ✌️ Metamorphosis I have star-studded lashes this morning ° A purple moon sleeps inside Horizons beckon Tall and wide Shadows lick, like flames ° The carcass of my old self Rots alongside me ° I can smell it Want to save it from corvids But they deserve to feast And I must sustain…
Bianca Bowers
Author | Publisher
