Easter Hikoi

along the motorway,
across the harbour
we see our beautiful city:
jewel in our nation’s crown
centre of art and government
heart of jurisdiction and justice.

Jesus wept.

We weep, too
for the ripping apart of Papatuanuku and Ranginui
for clear-felling of forests for pasture
damming of rivers for power
for the destruction of our temples
for the stones that cry out when we are silent.

We weep:
for the exploitation, trade, abuse and rape of the innocent and powerless:
children
women
men
for the rapists, abusers, the traders and exploiters
for those who cannot weep
who cannot empathise
or feel another’s pain.
For victims and perpetrators
we cry for justice and work for peace.

We weep
for those who have lost hope
for those nearing journey’s end with no sense of resurrection
for losses too great for stiff upper lips and backbones

For what we must let go of
we weep.

Blessed are you who rebuild what was broken
who replant what was torn up
who heal our spirits and our earth.

Hosanna: mercy on us.
Blessed are we who come in peace.

We hear the stones cry out
for the times that we did not.

We hear the stones cry out
for the destruction of eco-systems
for careless or deliberate waste of our resources
for leaky buildings and shoddy work and greedy development

We hear the stones cry out
for the destruction of our temples
for knowing what is needed
and still not giving peace a chance

for trying to quiet those who shout for justice
in languages or accents foreign to us
for closing our ears to those
whose causes we don’t understand

For the ravaged beauty of the earth
and of her peoples
we hear the stones cry out.

Hosanna: mercy on us.
Blessed are we who come in peace.

hold the hands of those who cannot see the way
we hold two palms aloft, for those who need both hands
to guide their walking frame or wheelchair
we shout Hosanna twice as loud
for those whose voices are weak with pain or age or struggle

We bless those who care for us
at times when we care nothing for ourselves.

Hosanna: mercy on us.
Blessed are we who come in peace.

dusty from the road
coats and blankets and cushions stowed in our backpacks
palm leaves discarded – or put out for recycling

the upper room awaits
and still
sometimes self-consciousness, whakama
make us shy
from letting others wash our feet.

For the times we reject others’ help;
for the times we rush to carry water,
bring the towels, fill the bowls –
because we know how it’s done,
instead of letting others do it their way;

when we deny the blessing of giving to others
and we forget it’s also blessed to receive

for the times we’d rather be dirty than
let others help us wash
forgive us.