This place is void of sound I walk
at night to catch glimpses of your
stunted wings through Akatarawa and
Whakatane I walk through darkness
waiting for your call your weak
reminder that you have not left
this place your plea for remembrance
in Aotearoa. Little bird, where is
Tane Mahuta now as the trees come down
for wider streets in Muriwai I walk
under moonlight trying to be unseen
like you trying to be mistaken
for the landscape in Rangitoto.
Little bird, I wonder what you
have done in a past life to deserve
no flight I imagine you are Maui
and were sentenced to a land-bound
life among the Pohutakawas and
Wheki-pongas and we have made
you our martyr thank you for the
fire.