Birth Song
When I cry, when I’m weary and when I’m teary
I thirst for my tears to flow with the river Taieri
upon my sigh, I want the breath that I breathe
to mingle with the beech forests of a Fiordland eve
and as I drive south down the coast of Moeraki
from the same windscreen, I hanker to see the mountains and the sea.
I need to reacquaint my present with my nationality
to allow Aotearoa to permeate my personality
squeezing between my toes I crave the sand of my birth
and running through my fingers I yearn to feel New Zealand’s earth
my accent hungers to be one of many
and my hair colour not significantly silly
I miss bold cloudy blue skies
and lazy evenings being fodder for sandflies
laid-back people, friends, family
and time that twists and ebbs oh so slowly.
My body longs to lament its birth song
and I yearn to be home where I belong.
When I cry, when I’m weary and when I’m teary
I thirst for my tears to flow with the river Taieri
upon my sigh, I want the breath that I breathe
to mingle with the beech forests of a Fiordland eve
and as I drive south down the coast of Moeraki
from the same windscreen, I hanker to see the mountains and the sea.
I need to reacquaint my present with my nationality
to allow Aotearoa to permeate my personality
squeezing between my toes I crave the sand of my birth
and running through my fingers I yearn to feel New Zealand’s earth
my accent hungers to be one of many
and my hair colour not significantly silly
I miss bold cloudy blue skies
and lazy evenings being fodder for sandflies
laid-back people, friends, family
and time that twists and ebbs oh so slowly.
My body longs to lament its birth song
and I yearn to be home where I belong.