On hearing of the death of Hone Tuwhare, poet
- Pam Swaisland
Clearing vegetation by the bridge
I scraped at mossAnd snipped the jointed stems of grass
But, thinking of you,
I spared the tangled, wild pea
That grows in such profusion here
I would like to take you flowers,
Leave them by the door
Or at the gate
But I do not know the house,
being a stranger,
And I hesitate to ask
Perhaps you are no longer there
Maybe they have taken you to a place
Where people make speeches
And gravestones and read your poems
To a considerable crowd
I hope that some will sing and pray
And read from the Good Book
Before they lay you
In the sweet, sweet earth
And I wish you could lie not far from here
At the Point
Where you lived
Meanwhile, I mourn your passing,
I salute you with purple
And I offer you
The delicate, intricate beauty
By my bridge.
• Pam Swaisland writes in the Catlins.
