Forests for me,

have always been a symbol of death. 

I walked to the top of the hill and I wept. 

A sea of grief,

stretching out in all directions

smothers everything. 

It’s salt mirrored on my cheeks, and

did I cry a whole ocean?

She tells me the salt in our tears will heal our eyes.

 

It’s so much bigger than I am.

It’s so much bigger than I am.

It’s so much bigger than I am.

 

I hear the sky

growing lighter towards the horizon, and

I am looking at a fine white line

the glowing ethereal lie

binding two lovers.

Fishing line strangled the earth.

 

Ko wai au?

I am the ocean.

Ko au te moana, ko te moana ko au.

 

I hear water

carved arteries

‘cross curved landscape, and

that didn’t stop Maui

tearing her body outwards

to bite of frozen air.

not vast enough to hold her!

in the safety of its embrace?

 

             and if it couldn’t hold her than how can it hold us?

              and if it couldn’t hold us than how can it hold me?

                                                                                                              down. 

I hear time

heals all wounds, and

as the banks of my veins flood

I sit quiet, watch.

waiting for the current

to wash us all away. 

 

Ko wai au?

I am the river.

Ko au te awa, ko te awa ko au.

 

Rivers,

pinkened by the touch of Rangi

stretch outwards in front of me

great resting limbs

pointing home.

 

and,

in this forest

I hear no birds.

I am listening to find

my way, to the

thudding against rocks.

I will curl up inside the oceans great lung.

I am a thud between heart and rib.

 

                             The forest loops                                                              

back,   and

                                      back,       and

                                                                 back,

 

tangles underfoot. 

Blackened roots gasping for air.

 

 

Tree roots melt

to sea of black.

I float, gazing

upwards

waves gently licking

eyelids.

Skin melts too, and

I am the sea.

 

This is the blackening of the mind.

I am the wave.

I am the infinite black.

I am the salt in your veins.

 

Here is stillness.

 

The earth turns, moving me

inwards

towards the light.

Tangaroa looks back at me from hard earth,

tears on her cheeks.