Wash

Taha Wairua... Spirit

16 Jun

Written By Rosie Moana Pickett

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wash

washing

washing the feet of a man

washing my feet

washing his feet

i look up at him

he has nails buried into his palms, is called a saint

i have nails in my palms too, the invisible kind

the kind that don’t go away no matter how hard you pray

wash

washing

washing the sin off my skin

washing the sin off his skin

there are tears coming out of my eyes

i’m crying

i cry

i can’t stop the tears from falling

i fall

i go out on nights like this

eyes stare at me

waiting, taking, wanting

filling down my sharp edges

expecting shiny armour where there’s cuts and bruises

why was I taught to love a man who is so far away from my centre of me?

how was I taught to love a man who is so far away from my centre of me?

i turn on the shower head and wash my body

all the parts of myself I was taught to hate go down the drain

my soul, myself, my being has always been clean

i will no longer live ashamed

i will no longer feel regret

i reclaim that white dress

reclaim that olive branch

no more tears shall i cry over the morality of me

no more tears shall i cry

sinreligionmoralitydogmachristianity

Rosie Moana Pickett

Rosie Moana Pickett was born in Napier (Ngāti Kahugunu, Ngāti Tuwaretoa, Ngāti Hineuru, Pākehā). She is currently studying Australian Indigenous Studies and believes it is important to have a deep and informed critical understanding of Aboriginal Australian history and the land that you live on.

As a young Māori in Borloo (Perth), growing up she only saw negative depictions of Māoritanga and Māori people on Australian Television. She says that her writing is inspired by the stories she would have loved to engage with as a child, a teenager, and now as a young adult. Rosie hopes that her writing portrays different narratives and perspectives on what it is to be Māori.

Wash

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