of trouble
p. 73 · Read in the full issue
The Lord is my 'Te Mauri’ in times of trouble
By Maunaa Itaia
The sun turns away.
His face is hidden with a thick cloud.
The deep darkness swallows the drifting hair.
Violently, the wind shakes the collapsing island.
The heavy rain bombards the drowning stick.
The angry sea heats the sinking island.
The tidal waves toss high the helpless canoe.
The island panics.
Everyone runs wild and mad murdering themselves.
The merciless elements ill more victims.
Confusion, fear, madness and panic everywhere.
I run this way I run that way desperately running to seek help to hide myself.
Running, panting to my refuge to save my life. ‘Te Mauri’ opens her gate.
I am safe.
The Lord Is my ‘Te Mauri’ in times of trouble.
In perfect peace I rest.