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Tower powered up
Murmuring sleep behind eyes
Brace for the colds grip

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When I look into the sea
I see pirate ships, the land I’m born in orchestrated it. Their thirst for land, resources, gold meant that we were sold and family went adrift. Some boarded ships, many would never return.
As the tide turns, my heart burns, that generational curse needs breaking. Like how our women went through that break in. Terror left our men shaking and traumatised. It’s a little deeper than merely black and white. That time stole lives in probably the millions. From our resources and labour master earnt zillions.
Looking out at the shoreline my ancestors scale the cells within my mind.

(c) Daniella Jade Edwards 2023

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Pete Kalu, with roll of film negative that I'd found on the beach. Photo by my mum.

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Pete Kalu, with roll of film negative that I'd found on the beach. Photo by my mum.

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Boats and boating--Equipment and supplies

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Mist shrouded pier
stirring, swirling, littering
Hitchcock's seagulls watch

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winter scrim of mist
surrounds the starlings' drift &
sway—a living ash

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(Thanks to Roger Robinson)

Home is not a place
by this roiling grey-green sea.
Our sea's cobalt. Hot.

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We are by the sea
Receiving the spoken
a murmuration

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Winter seaside mist

Humid towers rule Blackpool

Wings dance on the wind

(alternative ending:
'...Pete down to skivvies!!')

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Braving the cold for creative inspiration