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Maori are Children of God

Somewhere in the land's mind a taniwha
lifts his head and grins, a mountain
walks off with a female mountain,
a waiata is sung in honour of the above

Maori are children of God

a dead tohunga sees me and I see this
we are talking about the madness
that has taken the people by the sip
in aluminium pints quarts and handles

Maori are children of God

the sickness of the city the iwi's filtered
oration on streets with rap not speech
and the power of their history strong as Edison
or Einstein weaker than the matakite man

Maori are children of God

and soldiers and mercenaries and free people
and makers of villages and makers of waka
and breathers of spirit and air and growers
and laughers and artists and the solemn

who represented all these things
of war-peace-food-love-beauty-sleep-
forest-man-woman and the numbered

and should not forget as they live
in this mixture of a time where they are
folded into a document that takes blackness
from dignity and spits/gifts some back.

The Maori are children of God.


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