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Metanoia

Serie Barford

They were jeering at Faleasa
who was standing on the topmost stair
with his arms outstretched to the dazzling sky

his mouth fixed in a soundless scream
his long hair and beard as brilliantly white
as the whitewashed church walls

encircling the Sunday-compliant congregation
praying for repentance, redemption and glory

while Faelasa's wavering arms
cast truth to the tropical sun

and like a fisherman who's snared light
in the angle between line and wave
he's grown wary of unexpected shadows

Faleasa understands that day follows night
that thousands of little deaths gnaw him
that he's colonised by pain and lice
that the songs of our souls are embedded
in the inky wombs of the universe

Sleep on my precious friend
safe in the embrace of Pouliuli
the Great Darkness out of which we came

This poem contains excerpts from Albert Wendt's Pouliuli.