The island by the city

away from soulless city searching

on landing shore empty shells

create wonder to wandering eyes

before tongariro walking on volcanic crunch

before the bitter limerock of priest spa

before sulphuric ochre whispers past

the native is trapped on domain drive.

we visited twice the suffocated marae

he taonga Maori and performers “experience”.

cement meant to soar by westward eyes

sweat and work creating falseness

a world reduced to pleasing visiting crowds.

we seek the spiritual taha wairua

even though we do not know it yet.

me and he we tred lightly from the boat

leaves brush our legs; soft rustling greens

unencountered I stop to

smell,
touch,
taste

the sweetness of waiheke

as breeze passes upward laughing

making peace with the world; pleasure

surroundings finally greet us as pepper

and glassy berries tingle touching lips.

sitting down watching pastoral meets local

-- glocal --

leaves of the vine
thousands of lives

and the aquamarine circles us

as the wind flag pauses and sways

channelling hope, accepting the past.

together you teach of aotearoa

the beat ships onto the island by the


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