Hine o te Pō

She waited at the breaking of dawn

A state being, Uncertain, Shifting

Drifting with the breeze

Like the swaying gold of toitoi reeds

Warming the waters that greet her and glisten

But there is no song to sing and no one to listen

Poupou turn away from her in shame

The fabric is frayed, Unravelling the pain

Twisting like the wrists of weavers

Wrapping, Turning, Recreating

Seeking the pieces and trying to connect them

What is the ourpose beyond creation?

Sinking further, Deeper

Spending her days in an endless night

Then in an ocean of darkness

She is reclaimed

From the soils of Kurawaka, and deep red clay

From the currents that carve groove scars from the river to bay

From the shoulders of mountains and beneath

In te po

She waits