When I arrive in Niue, I want ten trays of takihi and a bottle Of freshly squeezed coconut cream Waiting for me by the entrance of the airport. When I arrive in Niue, I will walk past each Niuean coming forth with their hand I am not there to see them. When I arrive in Niue, I want to pay my respects to the king of Mutalau by swimming in His family's lake. I want him to see a child of his kingdom unzipping their flesh to clean her organs in His water. When I arrive in Niue, I want to find my father's house And sleep outside its metal tin. When I arrive in Niue, I will enter the house And beat the walls with a wooden spear. The walls have seen enough. When I arrive in Niue, I will walk down the road from my fathers home And cry beside the tomb of my great-grandfather And cry, until he feels the internal pain Of his grandson’s inner child I want to cry until I am beneath The surface of my own water And I am told to go home For have created the beginnings Of a flood In my Father’s name.
Featured photo: Hiapo (tapa cloth), Niue. Te Papa Collections Online