I tended the fresh wounds from losing my Father in Lyttelton.
Watching the tugs turn huge forces in the harbour, like magic,
Rugged up and clutching tea on the verandah, brave against the southerly.
I nurtured the green shoots of love into a fully formed partnership in Lyttelton.
Birthed a daughter on Park Terrace,
and softly, softly breathed a family into being.
I let the old ways drift out on the tide in Lyttelton,
Shouldered the korowai of fatherhood,
Accepted the cloak of becoming a husband,
In Lyttelton, in Lyttelton.
I grew stronger, gazed further, loved more, learned to sacrifice with joy, found my words, found my voice.
I found my Life,