Vanishing Points by Michele Leggott

Author:Michele Leggott
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Poetry
Publisher: Auckland University Press
Published: 2017-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

5

Sweet briar, mignonette, lavender, honeysuckle and violets. At five o’clock on a beautiful clear morning the General’s column left the town. I am Dorrie, very earnestly digging in the garden of the old stone vicarage. A tear-shaped hill at dawn of day. The Reverend Mr Knowles wants his asparagus thinned, his new potatoes lifted from the warm earth, his runner beans picked from the tall frame over which they scramble towards the sun. The only sign of life a thin wreath of smoke ascending peaceably in the morning air. A kitchen garden may hold flowers and herbs. Sound of the surging sea. A flower garden may hold medicines as well as roses. Come inland and let us meet each other. I am Dorrie conjugating the southern seasons of flowers and vegetables, inflorescence and dehiscence, on the hillside above the harbour. Fish fight at sea! Mrs Knowles wants her borders weeded, her vines tied up, sprays of briar rose caught back from the shingle paths they festoon. Come inland and tread on our feet. The cool of the morning. Make haste! make haste! The warmth of the day. A cart road cleaving the hill Mahoetahi. The cool of the evening. Dropped flat on the ground and every man followed his example. Who are these like stars appearing? The bullets went over their heads. Who are these of dazzling brightness? A Volunteer who had joined in the charge on the southeast end of the pah fell mortally wounded. My knees are parallel with the earth on which I kneel. He was the son of the Reverend Mr Brown and not sixteen years of age. My back bends over the hoe and the spade. On the Waitara side of the pa there was a great deal of mint and long grass. My arms gather up trimmings and clippings, my hair is full of drifting blossom. Now came the most desperate work of the day. A life curled in my womb is no assurance of the breathing child, but I may hope. A shell had a most beautiful effect, the natives rose out of the swamp like birds, and were shot down or bayonetted, as they would not surrender. Marrow, pumpkin, squash. Reddened pools of water. A kitchen garden. Throwing away blankets, caps and in most instances their guns for I did not see them fire one shot after this. A sanctuary. But set the fern on fire to turn out any skulkers. Who are these like stars appearing? At twelve o’clock noon, the bodies of the three chiefs and three natives who died from their wounds were buried in St Mary’s Churchyard, the funeral service (in Maori) being read by Archdeacon Govett. Who are these of dazzling brightness? The bodies were placed in coffins and buried in two graves. Violets, honeysuckle, lavender, mignonette and sweet briar.

grows wild grows

bees bleeding bees

heart

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