Dangerous with peace
On seeing the Parihaka Exhibition, November 2000
There are children clapping small hands.
There are horses trampling the patience of peace.
There are clouds watching
from the mountain’s shoulders.
Here are kuia solid as rock.
Here are warriors on their feet
light as white feathers.
Wind cradles the karanga
in its old hands
allowing song to rise like smoke.
Sun closes its eyes to history
and moon wakes
and soothes with honey the uprooted wheat.
They can never plough enough land or
plant enough wheat.
Te Whiti is dangerous with peace.