A new poem by Ruby Solly.

Kōauau kōiwi

Ko au ko te iwi

It starts with mouth on bone

But really

it starts anywhere it can

From the centre of a note

from the tuwiri drill

shaping black holes

to the marrowless tunnel

of DNA singing the songs

of its people

We call it whakapapa

You call it family tree

Either way

like a bone

a tree can sing

Te whē is when the tree creaks

its music into the world

as it did in the beginning

when they grew from the darkness

Like the inside of this kōauau

dark and warm with breath

puts the white of bone

behind the instant night of closed eyes

of holes bored then covered

with hands descended

from song and flesh

            and bone.

                             Kōiwi, ko iwi, bone of my bone

                             Ko iwi, kōiwi, at home in its tone

Kokowai painted tīpuna
Held gentle in a cave

Three-day biblical weight extended

   to a cycle of stars

      to a calling of names in stereo

The uncovering
of red-stained white

The sound you only hear

from tīpuna or enemy

Pied piper piping a pied pipe

for angry descendants

or soothing sound weaver

calling the ancestors in

to hold you in their bone song

 

This poem is taken from Now and Then: Poems about Generations, a forthcoming anthology by Landing Press, published on the 21st of October. The featured image is taken from a larger, original painting by Ruby Solly.