Some of all the parts
15 March
You lied to me about hate
I was told guns belonged in action movies
for Batman to chase away the bad guy
My TV lied to me today
—————————————-Gun
———————————————It’s a gun it’s a gun it’s a gun
————————————————–he’s got a bloody gun, get down
His hate is here
staining the silver screen
fanning out the blood of the fifty-one
on New Zealand’s darkest day.
His hate is here
in the hollow faces and hospital beds
in a facebook livestream
in the middle of a Friday prayer
tapu to the fifty-one
They are us
the fifty-one
They are us
flowers swathed in cellophane
handwritten notes upon the damp ground
desperate whispers upon a throng of white crosses
They are us
Welcome brother
They are us
As-salamu-alaykum
Peace be unto you
9 December
You lied to me about greed
I thought being greedy meant
taking too many cookies from the jar
My newsfeed lied to me today
—————————————-It’s level 1
———————————————It’s level 2
————————————————–4…… run
Upon a craggy crater
ignored by a bunch of businessmen
blinded by dollar signs
the plume was grey and thick
A boat of tourists put
upon a craggy crater
forty-seven shiny faces arrived
twenty-two didn’t come back
swaddled in a coffin of pumice
and powdered ash
All for the benefit of
a fistful of pennies
All for the benefit of
a fully lined pocket
All for the benefit
of 13 people
who valued their bank account
more than the pulse of twenty-two hearts.
Today
You lied to me about racism
I was taught that New Zealand
‘wasn’t racist’
My instagram feed lied to me today
Racism is here
in the curve of a sunrise
in the shadows of a doorframe
in the howl of a dog
—————————————-Where’s your passport
———————————————Where’s your passport
————————————————–Where’s your fucking passport?
The humiliating mantra shot
through the doors of the panthers
on not one morning
not two mornings
not for a whole month of mornings
but for years and years of mournings
Forgive us
for the way we turned your mornings
into a callous hourglass
which forced you to count down the hours of the moon
Forgive us
for the work that tore apart your flesh
and your family
Forgive us
for the shame you felt
Dragging your patterned tapa cloths
in the wake of a bleeding sun
Forgive us
for making your home a cage
with shackles designed from ignorance
But maybe most of all
forgive us
for the way we stripped away your mana
and hid unashamed in broad daylight
when we so carelessly
stole away yours.
Ella Paterson
Year 12
Tauranga Girls’ College
