Friday, April 8, 2011

Heemi - Hone Tuwhare

Heemi
(for James K. Baxter)
Hone Tuwhare

No point now my friend in telling
you my lady’s name.
She wished us well: ordered wheels
which spun my son and me like
comets through the lonely night.
You would have called her Aroha.

And when we picked up three young
people who’d hitched their way
from the Ninety-Mile Beach to be
with you, I thought: yes
your mana holds, Heemi. Your mana
is love. And suddenly the night
didn’t seem lonely anymore.

The car never played up at all.
And after we’d given it a second
gargle at the all-night bowser
She wished us well: offered wheels
it just zoomed on gulping
easily into the gear changes
up or down.

Because you’ve been over this road
many times before Heemi, you’d
know about the steady climb ahead
of us still. But once in the tricky
light, Tongariro lumbered briefly
out of the clouds to give us the old
‘up you’ sign. Which was real friendly.

When we levelled off a bit at the top
of the plateau, the engine heat couldn’t
keep the cold from coming in: the fog
swamping thick and slushy, and pressing
whitely against tired eye-balls.

Finally, when we’d eased ourselves
over a couple of humps and down down
the winding metalled road to the river
and Jerusalem, I knew things would be
all right. Glad that others from the
Mainland were arrowing toward the dawn
like us.

Joy for the brother sun chesting over
the brim of the land, and for the three
young blokes flaked out in the back seat
who would make it now, knowing that they
were not called to witness
some mysterious phenomenon of birth on
a dung-littered floor of a stable
but come simply to call
on a tired old mate in a tent
laid out in a box
with no money in the pocket
no fancy halo, no thump left in the old
ticker.



Mihi: Collected Poems (Penguin, 1987)


5 comments:

  1. She wished us well: offered wheels
    it just zoomed on on gulping

    ReplyDelete
  2. from the Ninety-Mile Beach to be

    whitely against tired eye-balls.

    Joy for the brother sun chesting over
    the brim of the land, and for the three
    young blokes flaked out in the back seat
    who would make it now, knowing that they
    were not called to witness
    some mysterious phenomenon of birth on
    a dung-littered floor of a stable
    but come simply to call
    on a tired old mate in a tent
    laid out in a box
    with no money in the pocket
    no fancy halo, no thump left in the old
    ticker.

    ReplyDelete
  3. ^ Those were just a few typos you'd made. That is how Hone Tuwhare has written it in his collections. :) ^

    ReplyDelete
  4. But I have to say it was very difficult to find an online version of this poem. This was the only one I found so I was grateful you put it up. Or else I would have had to type out the whole thing for my drama exam.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Thank-you so much, Kridjiti desai. I can't remember when I typed this in. Most of the poems I try to reference correctly from the poetry books I've gleaned over the years, but have been having trouble updating the blog this year. I really appreciate your taking the time to correct.
    Hopefully I will have time to post again over summer.

    ReplyDelete