I don’t remember where I first saw this, and even more sadly, I don’t remember the poet’s name (if anyone recognises it, please do tell me). It’s short, it’s simple, it’s very New Zealand and it is something I remember every Good Friday. It’s something that speaks to me, for all its simplicity.
This year, I thought I would share.
Stark and dark upon a hill
Stood a tree whose dank timbers
Drank blood and infamy