Birds of a Feather

As though cased in a glass dome
I’m seated within a summer globe of beauty
Enveloped by a canopy of trees
Completely surrounded
Sheltered
Covered
Protected

I tilt my face toward the sun
Soaking up its goodness and warmth
Awash with vitamins and vitality
Under a sapphire sky strung with pearls
Stretching out over the wild west of Waitakere

Fingers of greenery reach out to touch me
Swaying and sighing in the breeze
A symphony of shadow and light and leaf
Pohutukawa, pine and gum
A commonwealth of trees
Stand tall having marched to the drums
Of a colonial invitation to stitch
Yet another English quilt of whenua fabric

I sit atop Te Maunga Owairaka
Solid and dependable
Tested by time
And pain and war
A nation of peace
But still under siege
As history knocks on the door of the present
The past speaks
Am I listening?
What was once a whisper
Has become a prayer
For Pākehā and tangata whenua,
Who flock together
Birds of a feather
Under the wings of
Ihu Karaiti who holds Aotearoa forever
With ties so much stronger than lies

I wrote this poem while enjoying time with God up on the summit of Te Maunga Owairaka (Mt Albert) in Auckland. Inspired by the trees and their different origins—some native, some not—I couldn’t help but ponder our nation’s history and pray. Having recently read Huia Come Home by Jay Ruka, the metaphor of the extinct native huia bird and the prolific colonial chicken seemed to reside in nature itself. If you haven’t read this book, I highly recommend it—a challenging and important read for all who call Aotearoa New Zealand home, but especially those who follow Ihu Karaiti.