trout [ 9 ] October 2001
John Pule [ 1, 2, 3, ]

Piwhane - Spirits Bay 1988


The evening becomes two brown horses
chasing a bird of small darkness
over the white and blue horizen, she covers
the hills and a silver stretch of sands
pass empty bottles and dead fish,
people carrying a whale bone, calling out,
'over here, to hear our isolation.'
Silence, nothing but silence,
except a yellow moon over Puketoa Pa.
The occasional sweep of wind and wave,
soon the stars will demand a voice
that breaks Pananehe with splendour
so all who walks Piwahne to
Te Rerengawairua, stand still



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© 2001 Trout &
John Pule