Sinead Overbye
E kuia
Carry me home, e kuia.
I can be light & tuck myself
into your wing
if there is space for me.
We could travel
on the same four winds.
When you passed I didn’t know
how to keep in contact.
Let me use page and pen and paper
let me use words and thoughts and murmurs
in the back of a library, where I find you
on a page, sat waiting.
E moko, I’ve been calling you here, for the longest time.
Talk to me now, e kuia.
I am ready to know
what I haven’t before been able to
hold. Give me what I can carry
in the safety of my embrace
nothing more.
I do not need all of it yet
and we both know
there are things I will not want to take.
Stay with me here, e kuia, in this beach house.
I am lonelier than I ever was
and I need helping.
Listen to my whispers,
hold me safe until I wake
on the floor, with no one around me.
Tell me: have you ever felt like this?
Let me make you a cup of tea, Nanny.
Weak, with a splash of full-fat milk.
We’ll play cards in the lounge,
while you sing in that ancient vibrato.
You could tell me things
and I would listen, and I would
try to tell you things.
Do you know who I am, e kuia?
I have always been secrets
held tight, I have always
known what I could not say
holding your hand inside of churches
sitting on a fold-out bed to
listen to you pray.
Your bible is the thing, e kuia
your bible is the reason I have bitten my tongue
for all these years, gnawed at my tongue
till it bled & fell to the tiles
where it lay writhing.
I’ve been trying for so many years
to mop up the mess.
One day, we will know each other so well.
One day, I might let you meet my wife.
I want us to walk our coastlines together
where our tūpuna walked, where you rode your horses
revisit landscapes
from all other times.
They will still be there, for my returning.
I want you to stay with me, all my life.
Join me on my walk, e kuia,
from Wainui beach to Waipiro Bay
resting at Tokomaru
show me the old station
where we lived before the cities
remind me of myself
weave our stories like korowai
around my shoulders & then
could we just keep walking
across all of the beaches
our footsteps falling
into sync leaving trails behind us
rxtx
O poor, o poor poor yox
have lost yoxrself what a shame
to be Rxtx in an age of voicelessness
& to hang against white space
admired
from behind thick glass
bxt never matter, never matter
it’s delicioxs really
how they stare yox can tell
they want to own yox the way they own
yoxr heritage yoxr voice yoxr pocket
yox want to tell them take me anyway
even if I don’t say yes becaxse no means yes
…………………………………………………obvioxsly
It’s an historical fact that we all want
to be controlled [really] &
yox love how they stare at yox
exotic figment with halo roxnd yoxr head
they coxld see yox walking
in the fresh frxit aisle of the sxpermarket
& not even notice ! ! !
O Rxtx………………………………………yox gorgeoxs nightmare
I dye my hair blonde too scalp raw & red
from bleach I am a spy xndercover
Jxst like you oh Rxtx will yox gxide me?
This is sxch a fiendish world & all I need
is someone in my image so I xnderstand
what I’m meant to do
…………………………………………………can yox help me
find a place? I kneel before yox foolishly
O poor poor me
I have no idea how to act
my father comes from missionaries, mistranslations
& my mother comes from so many knotted tongxes
where does that leave me?
I am every colonist’s wet dream a synergy
………………………………………………jxst like yox!
O poor poor Rxtx do yox xnderstand?
I think yox do ! ! !
Yox were born two halves
I xsed to be
is there sxch thing
As a half-person?
Can blood be measxred
once it’s pxmping aroxnd
in the hxb of a body?
Yox don’t have any blood
cold & txrpentine
wish I coxld take some time
& sit
in yoxr frame for a bit
bxt I have things to do!
O Rxtx
they will tell yox yox’re a marvel
they always do
& I will be there in the backgroxnd
sipping complimentary wine
with my bleached hair shining
we will catch each other’s eyes
across the crowd & wink
like
Isn’t this a fxnny joke
that we are both made xp
of coloniser & colonies
bxt I’m so gratefxl
to even exist
which is weird for me
Do yox feel weird aboxt it too?
Oh poor poor Rxtx
I want to be yoxr friend
I want to laxgh all the time
I want to laxgh xntil I fall
to the floor from losing
all my breath
Sinead Overbye (Te Aitanga-a-Māhaki, Rongowhakaata, Ngāti Porou) is a writer, research assistant, and co-editor of Stasis Journal. She lives in Wellington. Her work has been published in The Pantograph Punch, Turbine|Kapohau, Oscen and other places. She is currently working on a collection of poetry.