506 Days

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


This a poem that recounts the historical New Zealand event known as Bastion Point.

Submitted: September 05, 2018

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Submitted: September 05, 2018

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Standing afoot the line in the sand,

your men adorn thyself with black masks and black sticks.
Spitting with rabies, they wait to trample on the hidden WHITE lie;

Signed Apihai Te Kawau.

Tuputupu Whenua longs to springforth here,
and even T?periri wipes his own tears.
This was not promised my good man,
and so we come 222 strong,
like those of Raglan, 1978.
You’ve outcasted the Hawke, with flames,
now left soaring about the northern spiritual gate.
For she leaves nothing behind but feathers of Wh?tua,

and so we must fight on.
To add salt, you taketh the virgin, ?kahu,
injecting her arm with waste hate;

demolishing houses and burning down her Wharenui.
Now you provoke me the asking of one vital question;

do you feel good about yourself?

Your men continue to charge at us, but we will not cower;
We stand with arms linked and silenced weapons;

our t?puna unsheathing patu;
‘Tika tonu mai ki m?tou e noho nei.’
We feel disturbed, Mr Savage too.
But remember, we are an iwi not to be challenged,
and, together, we are a people to be reckoned with.
So, I depart you, Muldoon, with these final words;

Bastion will remember.


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