The Stream and the Discovery

New Zealand Listener, Volume 20, Issue 518, 27 May 1949, Page 21

The Stream and the Discovery

THEY were delayed, after all; nor is it twice the same journey But the wind and the sea are the same, and the cloud-wracked changes; North wheels into south; new birds, new stars assail the eyes, And the promised coasts are there, suddenly, with the blue ranges, Enchanted on the water. For us, an expected fact, landfall Without doubt, journey’s end; but for the first hesitant one, Kupe, An omen of what tangled fears, incredible hope fulfilled, Or not fulfilled? No, it was no mirage; the canoe grounded, harshly, 7OR the later, the still intrepid ones, thé exploring captains, For the hopeful settler bringing his plough to a steeled wilderness (They have learned already how the unbending rod will temper Patience in the assault) this was discovery too: nevertheless lt was the same journey. So may we gladly meet in a new time These our friends, who have travelled the urgent river That flows through angry seas, through the black-boned mountains, And in the veins of men, whence we become one flooding stream, one brother. OME is the heart of being; wherever the stream hesitates Here will the woman pause, the lit flame her warm symbol. Hearth glowed; red blood pulsed down years of the unborn, formless When spark struck spark from the pooled eyes of Hinemoa. A gimbal Keeps balance, steadies the object. Here woman, facing the journey, Measures the flame in her hands, guards it from danger, Whether it falls upon prow, flogged sail, sod hut among flax, Or finds the welcoming smile within the eyes of a stranger. TRE Stream has flowed for a long time, out of the cave mouth, Into another cave, perhaps; we cannot uncover the arches Of the last limiting dawn. Tides have fixed paths like stars To wheel upon; here where we flow, or are set down, parches Without this ultimate purpose, this integrate final mingling Of rain and sea, or men and mountain, bone upon iron bone, Of welded enemy. So we will merge when the utmost cave is entered, The last white dawn opened, and the last wave, falling, discovers the last stone ALL men explore a world; at length each finds a kingdom Within his being. Even a king finds first his own deep rock And, with the woman, his roots in the shifting wilderness Of questioning minds. Else will he perish, and the swift stream mock His hollow days. But, all men finding their own crowns, strong In the certain dawn, then will a kingdom become a shining star, * Then will the king lead love, and in turn his one kingdom will bring all men, all races, out of the low cave-mouths of war.

Ruth

France