A wee poem I wrote during a summer road-trip I took with my sisters. Tracing our roots, returning to the land. Finding our marae.
We came down the valley
like the mist
that clung softly to the native bush
cloaking Omanuwhiri
taku maunga –
and bringing the cobwebs to life.
We came down the valley
like the creeks
that murmur to each other
as they zigzag back and forth,
taking their time because
the only rhythym in this place is
day and night
Ko Waiariki raua ko Waiatua oku awa
No clocks, no dates, no deadlines.
We came down the valley
only we bumped and juddered
over gravel roads
potholes
like intruders in a yellow SUV
Past the bay all churned and brown
from the storms & swells
Ko Waimahana te moana.
Ko Waimahana te marae.
Ko Puhi o te Waka te whare.
Ko Hone Hohepa toku koroua.
Ko Peta-Maria ahau.
