After the Storm

The wind outside howled,
like an angry toddler with the wrong colour plate.

Whipped up frenzy.

Death in its wake.
The damage was big
Obliteration looked final

But for a shoot,
Reaching up through cracked
parched ground.
Soul full.

Life carried on.




A Secret

I have a secret.

It’s eating me.

It consumes me from the inside.

Starts in my belly with a flip flop of fear and travels up my chest like a boa constrictor.


It twists around my guts, my lungs, my throat.
It squeezes my heart.

If I told my secret, relief would be welcome.

Not in the sweet, breathe easy way though. More like the sicker relief that comes with squeezing a pus filled, ripe pimple that sirens its presence on my face.

There's going to be a mess to clean up.

I don't know if I'm ready for it.
God knows the constrictor is hungry.

Something is going to blow.



Bron Warner

Bron Warner

Simply, a Human. Also mum, wife, sister of a beloved brother who was murdered, kids physiotherapist, 3 Principles coach, soon to be founder of a CIC & Writer xx