Fiona Farrell

Ursula at Parakakariki
 

My white bird stands
by a southern sea,
arms lifted wide
to fly from me.

Once, she stood on my hand
fingers caught in my hair.
Now she steps from land
to thin bright air.

From earth scraped red-raw
and seeded with bone
she rises in feathers,
she flies alone.

At the fine wire
between day and night
she flies feathered in soft rain,
feathered in light.

From The Inhabited Initial (AUP, 1999)
© Fiona Farrell
 

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Last updated 26 July, 2007