57. Powers of the Night

I leap from my bed and see hundres of moths
who flutter and fall all about my own room
They land on my head, my shoulders and arms
all shades of white and all shades of blue

They cannot stay here I think to myself
and reach for the light switch to bring about dark
They follow the light of the bright shining moon
and make for the window and out into the night

On leaving - the sun, now shines in the room
and choruses of singing is heard from outside
Where there were hundreds of moths I now see
kaumātua or elders singing to me

They sing of the moon and sing of the stars
of songs which delighted me when I was a boy
and a grey haired old man strums a guitar
belting out words amidst smiles and roars

The words of the song perplex me a little
as I hear of a dialect void of an 'f'
and beside me my grand aunt steps into the light
and we watch all our kin of the Pai Mārire faith

Guiding me slowly with love and with light
my elders now sing of the powers of night
They sing of the moon and sing of the stars
and sing, as my tears, fall across my own heart....