Te-Ao Hou

The treaty is signed
there's nothing to be done
we lost our truth
the truth of our fathers
we the sons
go only back to a mist
of forgottenness
where the sleepy pa
shakes itself but slowly dies
overgrown
with the weeds of time
and disuse as disused
places appear
in a lovers lost eye
that twinkles

So I lost myself
and a million more besides
wrapped I was in the blankets
that bought our land
in the half-truths
designed to kill a nation
but worse still
is the pretence
the noise of my unfolding
the promises of a false god
and the people who rule
Him.

I salute your victory
that in visionless revision
stole my heritage
and left the censored version.

John Barrett