[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.