1
'They call that a tree, '
The lamas say,
Mirth bubbling from their bellies
2
“Time to take it down, ” he said
“It’s spoiling the view.
Has done for forty years.”
3
Silver fish dart
In rock pools
Sharp eyes watch from the branch
Joy will eventually deliver lunch
4
The Kermadec tsunami
uprooted the pathway
pipes exposed
Roots tasted salt
For the first time
5
Under silvery strips
We gather in a damp, fragrant world
Working in near darkness
We build and commune
6
“Look mumma, ”
A chubby hand
Holds a crushed silver leaf
To my nose,
“Its smells like a cold, ” he says.
7
The old lady with the faded moko and the shorn head
Hands me an ancient photograph
“Can you see how small the tree is here? ” she asked
“Before the confiscation.”
8
“Stop moving, ” whispers the tree
As my arms circle its big man girth
“Stay in one place.
Rest.”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem