Leading from the front issuu

THE COMMUNIST SPEAKS
Do not imagine I could not have lived
For wine, love or poetry,
Like the rich in their high houses
Walking on terraces above the sea.
But my heart was caught in a net
Woven out of strands of iron
By the bleak one, the thin one, the basket ribbed Coolie
and rickshaw boy
Who has not learnt the songs that ladies like,
Whose drink is rusty water,
Whose cheek must rest on a dirty stone,
In whose hands lie the cities of the future.
HIGH COUNTRY
WEATHER
Alone we are born
And die alone
Yet see the red-gold cirrus
over snow-mountain shine.
Upon the upland road
Ride easy, stranger
Surrender to the sky
Your heart of anger.
Photos on right by Anne Johnston: Above, a tribute to Mother
Aubert in Jerusalem; Jerusalem Village from the Whanganui
River; decorative panels at St Joseph’s Church in Jerusalem;
the mighty Whanganui River curls past the village. Above left:
The River Flows, by Rahabi Khan.
Napier YMCA transformed and the Downtown Y is born 89