rachel anne
awa dwellers
White calla lilies endure at the centre, sighing content & unfurling in whispers to ripple across awa surface and reflect the messages like a mirror until they find a fertile ear to sing into. The mamas of the creek. Landlocked eels swim a hundred circles in the night-time & shiver when vibration connects with swamp-rubber skin. The messages aren’t meant for them; but I wonder if they know that the bravest among them will migrate to the pacific ocean. Snaking under hinaki & crawling overland to find the spring in the highest heavens. Some will not make it; struck & snubbed and strung up into hallowed necklaces, pulled backwards through the bracken. Slit beyond the gills and glittering a speckled technicolour patchwork as they feel Te Rā bounce rays off black form for the last time. Still, they will find their way upward.
But most will fade away gently into moss and river weed and fan out around the domes of two-mouthed mermaids; motionless. Haunt the waters where pale arms clasp around their own wet chests like the cleaver plant chokes itself around the trunk of a tree; suffocating, or perhaps comforting – creek-creatures here will play at inertia until we pass too close to their shores and we are either drowned or deemed worthy. They will press native edibles into the palms of the lucky ones with witch-curled fingers that lead your mind by the hand to the plane where the golden kererū nest. Golden eggs laid upon golden fern. Observe; but don’t touch. Too much has been taken from here.
ocean parable
Salt palms hold the cockle path and underfoot bare sole strikes seal skin, drawn out and upward until clouds and kelp merge and the sky blows away sea-foam through parted lips. Leave a breadcrumb trail of pāua shell behind to lure the next into these shiroi waters, the waves calmed by ritual mutterings that come from gravel voices beneath the stone islands. Swim deeper through shifting sand and find yourself in front of castles, guarded by wild kekeno who slap upon bare stone to sound the alarm and send gulls with linen wings spiralling to the surface with you between their beaks. Froth bites your heels as you retreat into the toi with a bulging satchel of raw treasures. Did you return less than you took?
Rachel Anne is a creative wizard living in Tāmaki Makaurau who spends her time conversing with the moon & drawing influence from the delicious and soulful unpredictability of this wonderful life.