Frayed Feather

The keruru has discarded
a green-blue feather.

It is tattered and frayed
and she will grow
fine new plumage
with which to fly.

The feather on my desk
shines like polished paua.
It no longer flies above the trees
instead helps my heart to soar.

Our love has past it's use by date.
It has become burdensome
for both of us, I think.

I have grown new feathers
and need to find places
you haven't even dreamed.

I will hold our memories
in my heart: spirit feathers
that will help me fly.



*keruru = NZ native wood pigeon
*paua = NZ abalone

PS - for those who wondered - this poem is about my relationship with my mother, not my husband!