Beware the Sacred South
i Beware the Sacred South
where the wind sleeps
at night
where swallows sing
in the shadow
of a dying sun
where molokau creep
unseen unheard
into the hollow
of an unrealised dream
its misshapen trunk
gnarled and infirm
thirsty for blood
and bone to feed
an embryonic speck
a whisper of self
heaven’s flower
unfurled in the valley
of death
clinging to the eye
of Eve, thick lashes
wet with ancestor dew
in preparation
for the coming
of dawn
ii People Language People
come you me go
to the place
where dialogue ends
and dialogic lives
begin, riding crisp
waves that fall
on slippery
tongues, black gold
fish eyes peeping
through carnivorous skies
where the last shard
of light is broken
and the word
is no longer spoken
caught in the throat
of the Vailoa Chasm
tendrils dancing
to the rhythmic wave
of Tagaloa’s heartbeat
tangled up vine-like
searching
for the chrysalis within
love germs hovering
ready to attack
come you me go
to the place
where dialogue
ends
iii Ancestor Eyes
i can see
through your
ancestor eyes
pure as fire
my genealogy
unravelled
tendons
uncoiled
genes
parted
blood
type
begets
blood
type
your midnight
blue iris catches
the dusky glint
of our translucent guide’s
broken wing
the
one
who
walks
beside us
before us
behind us
i see her
through your
ancestor eyes
her silhouetted
tears carving
out the chasm
of my life
iv The Tears of ‘Apa‘ula
every year when the frigate
bird graces the crown
of ‘Apa‘ula
she wakes, to ask
for news of the love child
that was taken from her
eons ago, the little one
whose spirit is trapped
in the mountains
of Viti Levu, far across
the ocean, in the forests
of his mother’s youth
and as the memories
evaporate once more
into the mists of the valley
below, the bird swoops
down to bathe in the fresh
water tears that flow
from her rocky crown
before preparing
to depart for his long
journey home
v Chasing the Sun’s Rays
in a sheltered bay
on the island of Fukave
reef sharks chase the Sun’s rays
their flat glistening bodies
dart silently from one breaker
to the next, passing time as the tide
exhales
waiting for the next breath that will carry them
in and under the trench and back to ‘Eueiki
where tiny fish wait
ready to do their diligence and clean their masters’ gills
keeping Tagaloa’s house in order while the great god
slumbers awake only in his dreams
vi A Tribute to the Black Ghost
like a black ghost the Sun’s ray glides
on the surface of the lake-like lagoon
crossing worlds
with a flick of a wing
her long sting trails behind
leaving whispers in her wake
that speak of an ancient underwater age
where deep-sea volcanoes and giant clam shells
map out Tagaloa’s heartland nestled in the sacred south
her eyes peer upwards
curious about the strange beings that occupy
the transient space between motu and moana
while her mouth, with its ubiquitous form, speechless
and puckered, remains focused on her daily ritual
degustation, a traditional three-course menu
of mollusc, fish and crustacean
solitary and silent
she maintains her post guardian of the gateway
to the deep, locked in the mirror of time
neither here nor there but always in between worlds
vii Avaiki Rain
as the spring rain
caresses my face
on a distant shore
I find myself longing
for Avaiki
the way
she used to rock
me to sleep
cradle me
in her midnight
embrace
take my muted grief
and grant it the right
to echo
among her slender peaks
in the presence of great chiefs
and fallen warriors
the solace she gave me
when all that was left
was the rain
viii The Journey South
far off in the distance
Lono rises in the cold
night sky
our silent guide
he leads us south
piercing the darkness
with his presence
as the ether
closes in
above
and
below
swallowing us up
in a bid to quench
a thirst for existence
matched only be the religious
fervour of the black hole other
that gateway
to Pulotu where humanity laps
at the feet of Lono’s twin
amidst discarded
dreams and forgotten fears
the fragments of ourselves
that we have shed
so that this va’a might stay afloat
on its sacred journey
south
in search of Avaiki
where the shattered light
will be whole once more
Leilani Tamu (aka Lani Grace) is a poet, former diplomat and creative nonfiction writer from Tāmaki Makaurau. She is the author of two poetry collections, The Art of Excavation (Anahera Press, 2014) and Cultural Diplomacy (2017). She has been published in a range of journals and anthologies, including Landfall, Takahē, Griffith Review, Hawaii Review, and JAAM. She is currently writing a collection of personal, braided, essays, anchored in memoir, and is also working on her first play. Her writing engages with themes of ancestry, memory, and rebirth. She is drawn to stories that examine the tensions between love, belonging and suffering.
