Eating porridge,  muesli and fruit
Memories of the last visit
Flooding in
Supported by Di’s loving presence
And a different way
To see cancer
Starting to be able
To gather
The splattered bits
Of me
Tears start dripping
From the corners
Of my eyes
Running down
My nose
I let them
For this moment
Turning inward
Reliving the fear
The relief
The gratitude
For a centred journey through
To a new life

Until I look up
And see the face of my dear friend,
No longer here,
On the person at the other side
Of the table

Single drips
Turn into a mostly silent
Flood of grief
And sobs
A box of tissues
Miraculously appears
In front of me
Feeling held and supported
By the kind and silent
Presence of the others
Around me

The wave engulfs me
Momentarily
Then washes through
And breaks softly
On the shore
Of here and now
Spent
Revitalising
And cleansing
This moment

These last ten days
This day and night
My birthday once again
Savouring the minutes
Walking hours on end
Under a bright and hot sky
Amongst the grandeur
Of the land
I call home

Breath working
Heart pounding
Muscles pushing up the face
Of another uphill slope
While eyes and mind
Can barely fathom the scale
And beauty of things
All around me

Crossing gurgling streams
That slide or bubble along
Joining an endless river
To North Mavora Lake
And the ocean
Way beyond

Lying in my little tent
Miniscule below the copper sky
Fresh air brushing my face
Through the mesh that is meant
To protect me from the elements
And sandflies

Heart and soul singing
They know
I’m home

Feb 2017

The travel away
And back again
Is nearly done

Writing and sharing
My poems a way
To savour some of
The essence
Of what walking Te Araroa
Has been like
For me

Thank you for
Being here with me
And sharing
Some of your thoughts
When you did

I enjoyed
Your company

Today is the day
We’ve started
Making our way
Back home

Three months of
Walking
Cooking
Eating
Sleeping
Shopping
Negotiating and adjusting
Plans and expectations
Amongst three strong
And independent women
Is no small feat

Opportunities galore
To practise letting go
Being generous
Starting again

The many hearts
Seen on the journey
My reminders to let each be
In freedom and safety
Some remembered in time
Other occasions lost

I’m happy
I have lived the dream
Of walking the land
Of the country
I call home

I’m grateful
To have been able
To walk this journey
With two dear
Friends
To have been able  to share
Some of the
Indescribable beauty
With them

I’m ready to be
In my own space
Once again

Cycling the flatlands
Between Invercargill and Bluff
And back again in the rain

Misty wide views
Farm smells
Gravelly bike paths
The wind in my face
Legs pedaling
I’m used to this

I’m back riding to
And from school
Riding to do my shopping
Riding for pleasure
Riding to go anywhere
This is fun

The rain and the day
Coming to an end
Add some urgency
And a greater sense of risk
Keeping an eye
On trucks coming up
From behind

Pedaling fast and strong
Feeling fit
Healthy
Exhilarated

Today we reached Bluff
Physical journey over
Tired challenged happy

I’m not a tramper

I am just walking
This land
Responding to its call
That I hear
Each time I
Come home
From my motherland

I am climbing the hills
Descending the ridges
Following the valleys
Sometimes walking the roads

I am walking
River flats
River crossings
And through
River beds

I am walking
Scree slopes
Narrow ledges
On the side of
Precipitous slopes
Soft springy
Leaf covered bush paths

Negotiating
Swampy terrain
Boulders
Tree roots
Spikes of
Speargrass and
Matagouri
Tussock large and small
The path sometimes
Slippery from rain or
Loose stones

Feeling the sounds
Colours
Smells of
Everything the land
And all that lives here
Offers

Feeling the beauty
Available freely
Without me having to give
The right answers
Without me having to prove
Myself
To be worthy

Allowing tears
To flow
When it moves me
That I’m here
At all

I’m not a tramper
I am just
Walking
This land
Responding
To its call
And beauty

Today is a struggle
Pack heavy
Back sore
Hurt leg tight
And uncomfortable
Gut rumbling
Walking hard work

In need of a rest
After two and a half months
This is
Another six days
Of intense walking
Amongst ever-changing
Mindblowing
Natural beauty
Narrow ledges
Long and steep descents
On sheer mountain sides

I have reached
My limit
Of tolerance for
Scary experiences
Or even their
Possibility

Longing for a normal bed
For not moving on
For no conversation
For no opinions
For a day of just being
Alone

Nature

Beauty
Ever present
Elemental
Silent
Sometimes wild
Connectedness

While the human world
Keeps running
Its frantic race
For bigger
Better
Faster
Newer
More
What?

Lying awake in a dark tent
Putting off the inevitable moment
When the pressure in the bladder
Has to be relieved

It’s been raining in the night
My little low tent
Is hard to get out of
At the best of times
Even more so
When the flap is wet
And the ground is wet
And I want to stay dry

Finally I give in
Unzip the sleeping bag
Wriggle out of the silk sack
Or so I think
Unzip the tent
Put crocks outside
Hands out
One in each crock
In protection from
Wet and muddy ground

Crouching
One foot comes through
The tent door
Balancing on one foot and
One hand
On the ground
The other foot comes through

Oops tent mesh caught
Under the heel
Quickly resolved
Or so I think

In the dark
I fumble towards
The shrubs by the tent
A little pee in the grass
Won’t do any harm

Crouching once again
Relieving the said pressure
I notice something behind me
And realise
It was my silk sack
That was caught
In my crock
Under my heel
And it had not been
Released

And now
I’m peeing
All over it

Fumbling attempts
To rescue the sack
Yield little success

It seems that Sunday
Will be
Washing day