For me, if ever there were two words unworthy of repeating — and in a way worthy of each other, they are "hate" and "him".
Everything stills seems so raw, even though a week has walked on by and rivers of tears have flowed from the Waimakariri to the Waikato and from the deep south of Ngai Tahu to the Far North of Ngapuhi.
Now, a week on the tears still flow.
The shroud of sadness that hangs over the long white cloud of Aotearoa will be with us for some time yet, and there is little we can do but let love carry us across the river of tears.
So many stories of heartache and heroism, too many excuses for too many weapons and not enough words to explain what happened on March 15 — and why.
What I can take comfort from is our true colours of love and light — and sometime soon again laughter, have been raised for the world to see, like a flag of faith, never to be lowered by hate and the nameless ones of the white supremacist world.
When words fail, as they have for me this last week there is always waiata and karakia to sooth the sadness. When our girls sang their little hearts out for the fallen 50 of Otautahi-Christchurch — as they did on the Pilot Bay beach last Saturday at sunset, it sent out a song of hope across the moana of Tauranga.
We reckoned their waiata carried its message across the Pilot Bay harbour and up to the Kaimai Ranges.
From there it drifted over the Mamaku and down past Ruapehu, all the while picking up passengers of like-minded voices until it reached out across the Southern Alps and held hands with all of the other waiata and karakia heading in the same direction.
What started as a national anthem asking God to hear their voices became a passionate prayer of love and hope.
It truly was a magic moment launched in a waiata by four little manu in Mount Maunganui, flying toward the 50 families who lost a loved one and landing like a white dove on the shoulders of the Muslim faith and their mosques in Otautahi.
When we find ourselves in times of trouble without words to speak — or write in my case, a Mother Mary or a TJ Perenara comes to us, speaking words of wisdom.
These are his wise words the day after the massacre in Christchurch.
'While as cities and a nation we are all devastated by what happened yesterday, let's not lose sight of the fact that yesterday's terrorist attacks were targeted at the Muslim community. While it may have felt like it, we were not all at risk.
"We were not all unsafe. But we are all responsible for joining the wider conversation about racism, about white supremacy, about who we are as a country, and what's actually going on.
"At what point do they the Muslim community get to rest? Why is everyone else able to go about their day? Why does the responsibility for such devastating actions by individuals get placed on entire communities in some cases but not others?
"The reality is I know why. If you don't know why, once we have had time to grieve, it might be time for some uncomfortable conversations.
"To our Muslim brothers and sisters — kei te heke ngā roimata, kei te ngākau pōuri au, ka aroha ki a koutou. I am so sorry this happened to you here. You should have been safe here; you should be safe everywhere"
Perhaps the best form of utu is to never allow racism to rear its ugly head and to edit two words from our vocabulary.
Two words that should stay silent forever, like the 50 lives lost last week in Christchurch
E Ihowa Atua O ngā iwi mātou rā, āta whakarongo na; Me aroha noa. Kia hua ko te pai; Kia tau tō atawhai; Manaakitia mai Aotearoa.
God of nations at thy feet in the bonds of love we meet. Hear our voices, we entreat, God defend our free land.
Tommy Kapai Wilson is a local writer and best selling author. He first started working for the Bay of Plenty Times as a paperboy in 1966 and has been a columnist for 15 years. Tommy is currently the executive director of Te Tuinga Wha¯nau, a social service agency committed to the needs of our community. broblack@xtra.co.nz
