A pair of sandals, old black pants
And leather coat — I must go, my friends,
Into the dark, the cold, the first beginning
Where the ribs of the ancestor are the rafters
Of a meeting house — windows broken
And the floor white with bird dung — in there
The ghosts gather who will instruct me
And when the river fog rises
Te ra rite tonu te Atua —
The sun who is like the Lord
Will warm my bones, and his arrows
Will pierce to the centre of the shapeless clay of the mind.
Thinking of Jo, 1976 – July 2010
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Saradha Koirala 
“of the shapeless clay of the mind” that’s going to haunt me all day 🙂
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The image of the meeting house, its floor white with bird dung and its ghosts gathering to instruct… is moving and powerful.
Thank you. I’ve not read this Baxter piece for a very long time.
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‘In Memory of Jo ‘- I am sorry , Saradha, for the loss of your friend. Thank you for this poem which I read aloud.
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Yes, Saradha – I, too, am sorry for your loss. Take care.
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God that’s a good poem.
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This is really beautiful – a poet I hadn’t come across before. Thank you.
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Thank you for sharing this poem, Saradha. My condolences, too, for your loss.
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Thank you all – I’m glad you enjoyed this poem. I also find it quite haunting and beautiful. I hadn’t seen Jo in a few years. We went to teacher’s college together – a fellow English teacher and incredibly brave woman.
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So sorry to hear of your loss Saradha. Thinking of you.
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Very nice,
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This poem inspire me lot. Very lovely poem. I like all these lines, because in every line i learn something different. Nice poem.
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