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Month: September 2018

MEMORY IN A SONG

I’m driving down the highway
through the King country
to Taumarunui,
the car stereo at full volume.
The sun is shining
but the tears are rolling down my face
as ‘Proud Mary” kindles his memory.

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HER DAY

She takes joy in this day
day of all days
neither yesterday
or tomorrow
she does not bury it
or waste it
or despise it –
on this one day
she rests
and has her being.

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IDENTITY

The thorns and the weeds
of human identity –
from master and slave,
superior and inferior,
male and female,
lost and found –
appear to have strangled
the notion of role and equality.

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OF PRIVILEGE

When we had the hammer
we didn’t use it to build but to break
and now the broken pieces of racism, poverty, warmongering, child sacrifice and human trafficking
have become the crosses
of our own crucifixion.

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THESE TIMES

The black trees stand close together,
the night is upon us and no path
can be seen, for the light has not
yet broken the darkness or sent
a golden shaft to penetrate
our hearts.

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THE POEM

I wondered at the words,
and how they came to be,
he said it was
‘deep, mournful,
moving, explosive
and then, release’,
I didn’t plan it so,
that was just how
it wrote itself.

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