Lost Village Poem by Keith Shorrocks Johnson

The leaders and warriors of the village failed
In their attempt to attend the ceremony:
Caught in a storm, their canoes were overturned
And their bodies were washed on to the rocks.

And when the tribes gathered to celebrate
The ascension of the new paramount chief
Into the sacred, lordly realms of the spirit gods
The allotted kava and offerings went untasted

And the chief sought the counsel of a shaman
On the insult to his mana - and of the taboos broken -
And the priest decreed that the village should be eaten
Each year, every year a mouthful - piece by piece.

At the season when the signs in the heavens signified
A war party would be readied, beaching its canoes
Behind the headland - demanding the necessary tribute
Burning the huts of a family and clearing its taro fields

And smoked meat, young girl slaves and other tokens
Would be taken for the great chief to appease the spirits
So that the family and its people came to be extinguished
And each year the village would grow smaller in significance.

And the time came when the last family was butchered
And the clearings closed beneath the forest canopy
So that nothing was left of that unfortunate lineage
And its retribution to the gods became a story.