2 January 2023

Nocturn, day after the storm, Te Aurere, south end, Tokerau Beach, Muri Whenua 7 January 2023
© Rangihīroa Panoho, 2019-2023. No part of this document (text or imagery) is free to be copied, plagiarised or shared for publication or for uses neither intended nor agreed on by the author without his express permission. Details for writing to the author are as follows: blueskypanoho@icloud.com

What is this thing that wakens sleep?

It is the rain

pummelling the surface of my heart

It is the click clacking of mānuka and bracken

this quarry rock road cuts through

It is the thundering of Neptune

one upping the TANGI

of the lone karoro

over Tokerau


It is the clattering blades of harakeke

lining the river

farewell sentinels

as you casually waft your way

down to the sea


rangihīroa, what is this thing called, that wakens my sleep…?, sketchbook January 2023

And this river is obedient

It opens to the ocean like a flower

Wind whips round mussel rock gargling at its’ mouth

It drives plankton foam down the beach

Launched towards the moon

Lost cross the dunes of Doubtless Bay

Pocked sand and tumbling spinifex

The ‘hau raki’ stings my cheeks

It smells of salt, fresh kelp and hammered shellfish

hauled up from the depths of Tangaroa.


Wind tears, Te Aurere

Lately you have started to tangi

like the spirit of a loved one

Is it you Hekenukumai?

on your last journey paddling towards Rēinga

a star waka, returning

clearing a path, scattering the sand of Tokerau

over a dozen dunes


And here when this storm subsides

And when the emptiness of dead calm gives way

at night

dazzling shark teeth white begins to pulse up there

In an ocean of black, sparkling

Whetū Mārama calls from the highest heavens:


‘It is time…’

‘Time to sail

time to harness the wind

time to cut a path that bends

through the sea

time for wash to fill the air, to dry the hair and skin

time to watch stars horizon dropping like lost souls

time to fill your kete with wānanga

time to find the seed sown in Rangiātea

time to raise the anchor stones

time to release ropes that moor

time to cut the umbilical cord

time to set the prow to the rising sun

time to raise the hand to the stars

time to kiss the farthest corners of Te Moananui-a-Kiwa

time to awaken

this dream, before it passes’.

Te Aurere.

this poem was written adjacent Tokerau Beach, Muri Whenua, Aotearoa, waiting for the January storm to subside
ranghīroa, Northland beach 29 January 2023