The Gravestone May 28, 2010Posted by Rambling Man in Emigration, Poetry & Humor.
Tags: kiwi, maori culture, new zealand, new zealand poetry, polynesian culture, tauranga
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OK so this is a repost – but one of my “most searched for” terms is poetry from New Zealand or about New Zealand (where I used to live) …
So I wrote this one while I was there … hopefully a few people will find something of interest that they can relate to …
by The Rambling Man
The gravestone lies quiet, at the end of the lane,
open and looking out on the harbour. It’s raining.
White and tall stands the monument, adorned with simplicity
It is your sacred place, for I am forbidden to walk there.
Is it a man or a woman you hold ? or maybe a few ?
Are you a rangatira, some powerful man of old ?
Alone now it stands, on a misty patch of sage green grass
surrounded by fences and unwritten rules.
Are you a chief who once commanded many ?
Or a warrior, the slayer of taniwha ?
Or maybe a poet, a wise old lady, chin adorned with moko ?
All now lying quiet, looking over the water, guarding the Moana.
Maybe you roam between the lane and the harbour, just watching.
Ready to greet this Pākehā with a fearsome haka, sending me on my way.
But you would slap your thigh in disclosure and we could share a hongi, breathing the same breath, and sit and share our thoughts.
What can you see from your side ?
What can I not see from mine ?