the last guide

the last guide

We climbed through clouds

the first day up to the pass

my body sang laments to

each stoney step and at the top

we went to sleep to a dire

ukulele strummed hard by

a german youth reliving a past

The wild kiwi slid through

the bush and we watched

and at Heaphy a Rangitāne

and I hongi, later a descendant

of Te Rauparaha and I kōrero

about the voices we hear here

where here enemies are friends

as I cradle my baby, home,

softly rocking and reaching for

another son to touch his head

and still his sighs, his mother,

my love, leans across my lap

and I realise the cadence of my

breath is still a walk, my pack

sits serenely on my shoulders