“That blue light in the west is such an uncertain thing 
it cannot be proof of land.” 
Trickster or healer at journey’s end 
lands at dawn, and the people come to the shore. 
I hear he was blinded by the white sand, 
the broken sun on the water. 
It is said that you can’t understand the world without this story.
I hear if I am sitting motionless,
heavily beneath a blue chuckling creek,
the birds and insects will piece me back together.
Hokianga, are they too my relations?
It is said here is the place I wish to wish.
There isn’t any centre to the world
but, “Hey! A cloud! A white cloud!
A long white cloud on the horizon!”
Finally now arriving here
at a place where I can know
touch, sensation falling forward
into the spring of the world of light.

for Kupe and Columbus

First published in "Selection" 2018