Grandfather Bosini
About him I know next to nothing.
I would like to think
that he was fierce and proud,
with the fierce proud blood
of his ancestors beating
in his veins — his ancestors and mine
who ate human flesh.
All that I know is that he was small
and never left the Islands.
He was probably gentle.
If he had violent thoughts
he kept them to himself.
But when he came to die
he wept fiercely for my brother
killed many years before in Italy.
He called out many times
for his Maireriki —
his ‘Little Flower’,
and then he died.
He was ninety-nine.
By Alistair Te Ariki Campbell