Deb Curreen Author

                                                        Photo: Hugh O'Connor - "8 good reasons"  I will go down to the beach today, down to the sea on those craggy rocks to stare the waves down, dip my toes in ice cold pacific blue water, to dream for a while and remember you. I will walk alone across the chilly rocks, and stare at a silent ocean that shivers and roils, at the time and tide that is waiting for me. I will find the darkest rock to perch on and hold your life in my arms, as memories of you gather around me,  singing to me in time with the gentle waves lapping at my feet, while the pining seagulls drift on the arctic winds of winter overhead, I imagine the winds blowing down from Ireland today,  I don't know if that's even true. But this is an ode, and we're Irish, so we can say whatever we want to. 🍀 💛💚💘🍀 I will sta...

 the words of winter, hang, stay, freeze, warm stay again. my friend wrote about seasons, winter was long, and frost creeps into my brain, cartoon icy fingers, long and grey-blue, like icicles in the morning. Brittle, cold to touch, avoid if you can. 💘💙💥💦💟🐞🍀 I spent winters away from home, water pipes froze, fires stuttered and I did not have enough socks to cover my toes. I never imagined chills like this inside my bones startling my brain. Winter wass human fog stealthily invading your home at night. 💦💟🐞🍀💘💙💥 Alas, it ends. The friend who lives with us, first uninvited, then welcomed in all it's magnaminous glory, white-cold dawns, with clear blue days, that gently follows us about ... the silent companion, whispering promises of Spring, bring bright flowers and heady fragrances... until finally we cheerily wave, "Good-bye Winter," and secretly wish it doesn't come back too soon.

                                                 Image by  Giani Gheorghe  from  Pixabay  I have a friend, she's a Collapsologist, and before you laugh... there's such a thing they are for real, and here's what they do- measure the state of the Earth's collapse. I have a compassion certificate, it's real too. It says something like, I'm nice to everyone, all the time, day or night, it makes no difference. Collapse and compassion, they both get close to danger, they both get shot at, and the world still crumbles at their feet. "We have to take that danger shot," I tell my friend, as she crouches on the beach, measuring the rate of seaweed death. She picks up plastic rubbish when I go to feed the homeless, I pick up lives. Collapsologists help the planet to breathe, I help humanity eat. "The world is crying out for rescue," says my friend, the Co...

 I refuse to rant and get on the internet for a good old moan, or stay home laminating the state of a crumbling world as fresh rain masks the sun, and liberty begins to drown a little more each day. I won't waste my words on all the crooked politics the holey roads, not the God-kind of holy, the rip- off bloody supermarkets where wild dogs circle  hunger flaming from red eyes. in this wintery, nostril dripping weather that lurks outside my window, as hope sleeps fitfully in my doorway. I'll retire my TV to the dump, it can live there with all the other breaking news woes, while I unsubscribe from "headlines" and updates. I refuse to rant and lament, scroll and extoll about the coming doom or hide inside my room... while the world goes wild around me. I'm going to the beach to sip a cup of ocean, inhale the waves, scroll the horizon for cloud updates  as the autumn drizzle dampens my forehead, old tears and sweat rolling down my cheeks and off my shoulders. I thank...

  the tangi rain has stopped finally the earth is sodden and heavy the pain in our hearts too. while our minds swell with memory our spirits limp through the days as our rangitahi now rest in the arms of our tupuna.   the tangi rain is over.   the absent face of the sun  breaks apart dark clouds of grief that have hung for three days over our whenua.   shade we never asked for  unbidden… strangling pain wailing good byes to our dearly departed lifted away into the skies   if feels like the tangi rain goes on forever.   the sun shines drying the last drops from a silent cross that's keeping watch… while guiding   a young soul on the path to eternity. Te Rerenga Wairua sends thunder waves beat the rocks with farewells.   standing on the headland tossing  goodbyes with roses arohanui mai we love you... (come back)   the tangi the rain it is now over.

My loving, big, funny brother        Native bird painting by Ezra Curreen                                                                                               When my brother died, we were all bereft. My whole family, extended whanau, friends and strangers near and far, were overnight, plunged into unbearable sadness and shock. The trauma lasted for years. My big, strong brother was gone. Life had become too hard for him, so he drove to his favourite beach, one night and ended his life. Quietly and gently. He was gone. In the immediate hours and days after his death, as we gathered at our family home to bid him farewell, his friends told stories about him. Funny stories I had never heard before. Hair-raising antic...