Might the harmony these lives declare,
Become something we’d strive to share?
The waves, they break stone to sand,
in a combat-zone between sea and land.
Is it possible for peace to descend?
What if forgiveness was theirs to extend?
“Here I am, here I stand,
where my fate is in your hands.
I’ve heard your words and hope them true,
but can I trust in what you’ll do?”
Lie down in green pastures,
with no more sermons said,
why look for the living,
here among the dead?
We’re all flowers in God’s garden,
each a different bloom,
here for just a season,
Autumn comes oh-too-soon.
The legend of Te Mata-o-Rongokako, the sleeping giant
Rongokako was a giant that raided the pā of the Heretaunga tribe, stealing their food and setting fire to houses, until he fell in love with the chieftainess Hinerakau. The chief of the tribe asked Rongokako to bite a path through the hills to Waimārama before he would consent to a marriage, but the giant choked on a piece of earth and died, falling in such a way that his giant shape can still be seen today in the hills east of Havelock North.
The face of Rongokako
While the forest has gone and the ground lay bare,
we still see your furrowed brow, may you rest in peace,
your toil now ceased, in the land you now endow.
Invisible forces have their way,
and remain concealed, unviewed.
Yet with every breath we trust such things,
For our life to be refreshed, renewed.
Said Lie to Truth, “I’ll shape you yet – with every crashing wave.”
Said Truth to Lie, “I’ll resist you yet – so the people you won’t enslave.”
Said Lie to Truth, “You’re efforts will fail, I’m going to have my way.”
Said Truth to Lie, “Truth is born of testing, so thank you for the fray.”
“I am quite small, but feel quite strong,
regarding my predation’s neither right nor wrong.
But if our roles were reversed,
would I respect your God-given worth?”
Wrinkles and rust, not highly esteemed –
yet given time, may be beautifully redeemed.
If unlocked, what might I find,
within closed doors, within my mind?
Have I the courage to let light in,
dispelling darkness for healing to begin?
Wandering a cathedral of trees,
loneliness wafting in the breeze,
yet a still small voice did say,
“Lo, I am with you always.”
“Hope springs eternal”, or so they say.
“Live for today and hope for tomorrow”, puts it another way.
But it’s depths of grace into which we dive,
to find the hope for which we truly strive.
Little Piwaiwaka you bring such delight,
Yet in myth you bring death within your flight.
For now I’ll just smile and confess,
We are each destined for eternal rest.