From the Bottom of the Well
From the bottom of the well, they threw a rope. The tug of war — at the center of my core. Red. All I saw was red — Curled up like the koru In the darkness — te kore. No hues on the seabed, But the lifeline they threw. The mothers and fathers, The chains of my lineage — I could not bear to pull My weight. I could not bear to weave My strand of the story. Take it from me — the burden. But from the bottom of the well, they threw a rope. The tug was tender, the pull was faint, And in the red I saw — My heart humming still, Perfectly tuned To the bliss and bruises Of a fine world To which I belong. The mothers and fathers, Running through my veins, Held me in the well, Held me in the pain. They said: “It is yours — the gift of life. Weave it, with a rope, With a tug of war at the centre of your core. Weave it — with a broken heart, With a living heart. Weave it.'' -A poem that came to me tonight. Notes: Koru – A spiral shape based on the unfurling fern frond, symbolising new life, growth, and return to the source. Te Kore – The void or realm of potential; in Māori cosmology, the place of nothingness from which all creation begins.