[I am tī kōuka]
Ahinata Kaitai-Mullane (she/her; Kāi Tahu, Kāti Māmoe, Waitaha)
I am
tī kōuka.
We are.
I can’t decide which.
Perhaps it’s both
at the same time.
Each of us connected
forward and backward
to this same tree.
The same marker
on paths
that were well tread
by our tīpuna
and are now bursting with life
not our own.
Colonisation cut down the tī kōuka.
Cut us at our knees.
Started digging
to eradicate
the potential for new growth
then abandoned the project
as so often
happens.
Colonial memory
is short
moving quickly
to the next journey
next life
next conquest.
Our memory is long.
Rooted.
Beneath the surface,
the network of tubers that feed us remain, maintained for generations.
They are resilient.
New shoots
emerge from the earth
fed by those same branches
reaching into the earth.
The tī kōuka look different.
They twist
and bend
and branch
in a whole new world;
they breathe new air.
Perhaps our ancestors
would not recognise
the shape.
But of course
they would recognise
these roots.
This ground.
They would recognise our growth.
We are this tī kōuka
backward
forward
and now.
