Back From Malaya …

Te Ao Hou, March 1969, Page 20

Back From Malaya … And they waited … The old ones laughing And telling of remembered battles And the activation Of mock taiaha fights. And the women and children Hurrying to and fro From hangi pit to shed— And the long trestle tables Laden with jellies, puddings Cutlery and plates— And the parents bursting With pride And the sisters giggling And wondering ‘What Malayan women …?’ And the brothers silent And pondering … On the youngest of them all Having crossed the great ocean To battle … And they waited … Whilst the bright summery day Grew old … And died … And a youth came quietly From the darkness With his father behind him And stood, part revealed By the lamplight And he was home … And the elders spoke to him Each one wrapt in his own Remembered glories … Likening the battles of this Young one To the battles of old days When they had fought … And the tears In the young one's eyes, dried And he stood there Still in his soldier's garb Wondering … Had he really come home And who were these people Crowded here In this space Who were these strangers Who cared more for their own memories Than for he Who wished now, only to rest … And the speeches over he sat … And he was stranger to me This cousin of mine With the tense, thin body Turning ever, To twitch At the shadow looming large At his back …

His face masked by warm False grin And the slope-sided mouth Tense and tight Twitching in grimace That left his mouth A gaping black hole … And the furtive backward glance And the gulping Of quickly offered beer … And the quick cat-turn, As Brother to brother The sharp hand on his shoulder … Battle madness …! And the tight crouched tenseness And then The difficult relaxation… ‘Only my brother!!’— The relief and warmness— But, thru' the embrace— The soldier's eyes, Still straining in the darkness— Cold, iced, wary … And then to meet mine eyes And then — to glow with Surprise, pleasure? Madness … Come to me It will be a long furlough mine cousin And have you forgotten That we ran fleet-footed As children And the world had no fear? And you have forgotten … Your eyes are the eyes of a man— And did you only Battle upon the fighting fields In Malaya?? And as you hold me in fond embrace Am I weeping for the joy of Your homecoming Or because I know That you have grown smaller And shrunk … That the man has seen too much Of the inhumanity of man To man … That there is falsity in your embrace That I am no longer the cousin But a woman to you … And I would that I could Give you … That which you want of me But it is not meet … And I am not affinitous With the man As I was with the boy Your eyes hold the passion of a man, And mine the sadness of a woman, And I watch the passion die And the rueful, cynical, smile And again I understand That you fought — not only On the battlefields And I wonder that war Can make a youth Into that which is less than a man. And here are your friends, cousins … To welcome a stranger to their midst … A stranger … Who does not know yet … That he is a stranger … Dinah M. Rawiri