It is certainly not my intention to turn this blog into a series of obituaries, but I could not let the passing of Hone Tuwhare go without comment.  His impressive body of work represented a unique and at times beautiful insight into humanity and all our frailties. 

On a personal level, I read “Rain” at my brother’s wedding in the USA last year. I have long regarded it as my favourite poem by a New Zealander.  Those familiar with Otago University might remember the poem from the Ralph Hotere hanging that was in the foyer of the old Hocken Building.  The positive comments and interest in Rain from the American attendees at the wedding indicated that he could transcend international boundaries.  The full text is below.  Go well Hone.

Rain

I can hear you
making small holes
In the silence
 rain

If I were deaf
the pores of my skin
would open to you
and shut

And I
should know you
by the lick of you
if I were blind

the something
special smell of you
when the sun cakes
the ground

the steady
drum-roll sound
you make
when the wind drops

But if I
should not hear
smell or feel or see
 you

you would still
define me
disperse me
wash over me
 rain