Te Rā

A poem. For all the Sun's children.

Hello friends. Open Heart Surgery is a newsletter devoted to exploring metamorphosis, unravelling, questioning and healing. I write essays and poems in service to personal and collective liberation - the personal, political, social, cultural and spiritual realms are all present here. This is a space for divergent thinking and for open hearts.

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On my morning walk beside the moana (the ocean), the sun reminded me of a poem I had written last month, and then tucked away. I have been reticent with my poetry this year, keeping things closer to my chest, perhaps enjoying the skill of editing… of learning to hold pieces to myself for longer, to let them breathe, to return weeks or months later, and see if they want to be pruned or refined. There is a certain high of finishing a poem, or a piece of writing, and wanting to immediately share it – for joy or validation or a sense of release and relief – and a softer discipline of letting things marinate a while longer. Writing and sharing poetry is a whimsical thing. This simple poem came to me in early June, Pride Month, and has been sitting quietly in my Notes app since.

Today, Te Rā (the sun) told me to share it.

- Roses, 35mm film, Laura Bee Rita Wilson, 2024.

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Te Rā

Te Rā,
the great sun,
shines equally 
on all their children. 

The butterfly 
was not born 
with wings – 

everything in nature 
is in eternal flux;
transition. 

Nature adheres to no straight-edged box – 
razor sharp,
with manufactured prejudice. 

Te Rā,
the great sun,
shines equally 
on all their children. 

- Odilon Redon, Butterflies, c. 1910.