The stories from the family members and tributes from the sherpa community were very moving and allowed us New Zealanders small insight into the man himself - we're more than equatted with his legend... and my what a legend he was. I was particualy taken by his grandaughter (think it was grand daughter) reading a poem by Hone Tuwhare, the NZ poet who was also buried yesterday, a very nice touch - perhaps she could be given a job in NZ media who have ignored the lose of this great talent. As I read somewhere two great Kauris fell recently.
Hillary's life seems more akin to a boys own adventure story than reality, perhaps thats why we admire him so - he is the man, the person many of us would like to think we to could have been. Or is it more than that - his modesty, his dignity and his humour speaks directly to our kiwi values - even if these kiwi values are more myth than anytihng these days.
Two great men, two great kiwi's... two great lives.
No Ordinary Sun
Tree let your arms fall:
raise them not sharply in supplication
to the bright enhaloed cloud.
Let your arms lack toughness and
resilience for this is no mere axe
to blunt nor fire to smother.
Your sap shall not rise again
to the moon’s pull.
No more incline a deferential head
to the wind’s talk, or stir
to the tickle of coursing rain.
Your former shagginess shall not be
wreathed with the delightful flight
of birds nor shield
nor cool the ardour of unheeding
lovers from the monstrous sun.
Tree let your naked arms fall
nor extend vain entreaties to the radiant ball.
This is no gallant monsoon’s flash,
no dashing trade wind’s blast.
The fading green of your magic
emanations shall not make pure again
these polluted skies . . . for this
is no ordinary sun.
O tree
in the shadowless mountains
the white plains and
the drab sea floor
your end at last is written.
Hone Tuwhare
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