Waimango Rain

We dip our paddles deep in rolling green of
ocean swells and sing our names across the
seas. We hold the shape in memory of loving
lands from whence we came, joining hands
upon this day – where every hand is clasped
in hands of warmth and friendly greeting.

We sing in harmony of their sure love. Were
better voices joined we’d still be lesser gods
to wear serenity that brings us calm, soothes
the raging beast beneath our ages past, asks
forbearance of our ancestry – pays the piper’s
fee to tunes in which we all will freely dance.

She holds his heart within her clever hands,
hands which whisper words in ancient grace,
waiata poi embraced in rhythmic swing. He
sees her face in every wave and hears on wings
her voice in winds which bring Waimango rain.
Together thus, forevermore may they remain.
© 16 January 2008, I. D. Carswell

For Donna & Andrew.