My feet sink into the sand
as I tramp across the tanned shores
of my grandmother’s village in Samoa.
Waves do not rush in to greet me
I have been away too long and
this slice of the Pacific Ocean
does not easily forget.
I stop and look out into the sea
pristine as the travel brochures portray
no need for Photoshop
no government development plans
no colonisation
I close my eyes and wait...
The messenger wind breezes
salty words into my ears -
You may have taken your first breath
on the fanua of my kin, Aotearoa
but you have neglected the umbilicus sands and waters
where the kenese of your
existence is rooted.
The cool breeze leaves me then
to be beaten by the sun’s rays.
I did not notice I was gripping the sand
until I felt silk granules spill from
the Va between my toes;
grains of late yearning
slipping into a lost past.
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