as if to say e hoa, it’s just a scraggy old bush there
kaore ngā ahi kā kei kōna
anake ngā tauiwi e okioki ana
ae, koinā te kōrero he maunga ariki
but its roots were watered
with the tears of loved ones
it’s true that on this crowded hill
they too rest somewhere else
but in off shore breezes
this old lavender
knows no boundaries on this headland
crush its healing oil in palm
and you too will see memory
and loved ones
resurrected
upon the wind
Maunga Māngere titiro ki Maungakiekie, Māngere mountain looks towards ‘One tree Hill’, Tāmaki Makaurau, 2020
This short poem concerns a visit 13 February 2019 to the urupā at the top of Hillsborough. It is steeply situated with spectacular harbourside views across Manukau south to Maunga Māngere and west seawards out to Awhitu peninsula- south Manukau Heads. One of the nineeteenth century graves featured a remarkably hardy bush of lavender. I photographed a few of its many blooms. This extremely weathered and hardy shrub had been left to fend for itself but in the late afternoon sun a gentle breeze was picking up and the air around that grave was filled with the delicate scent of French Lavender. It occurred to me that a number of the shrubs and trees deliberately planted by loved ones involved broader narratives of connection. Was there something particular about the chosen plant? What might it have signified, what emotion is conveyed? Who were these people who planted these shrubs and how often did they return to pay their respects and perhaps just to talk…?
rangihīroa, lavender in heritage blue glass vase, 2019
