Month: February 2019

“You must be able…
when the time comes
to let it go…
Mary Oliver,
Pulitzer prize-winning poet,
dies aged 83
and the trees shed their leaves,
a carpet over which
our silent footsteps pass.

A thousand words a day come hell or high water?
I am not that man, he said.
The conscious and the subconscious,
they assemble the words in their own time.

How shall we know who we are
except the whisper of the wind along the river bank,
the roar of the waterfall on the cold mountain
and the lonesome call of the morepork in the night,
speak our name.

Through the land
and over the land
and across the land,
we carve the tracks
that lead us to the lives
we have come to be.

On the shores of the lake
he stood and called its name,
Taupo-nui-a-Tia
and the tears welled in his eyes,
overflowed to rivulets,
fell down his cheeks
and he knew not
from whence they came.