Redacted
They came with scissors and not for thread, But to stitch the Treaty up instead. Cut the words, reshape the frame, Leave the shell, erase the name. Too much mana, too much grief, Too much truth beneath the leaf. So they say: “Let’s bring precision, Clarity, and good decision.” The Bill’s Aim: “To define the Treaty’s scope and theme, Bring certainty to Crown and team.” But what they mean? Strip it clean. Make it tame, erase the dream. Shrink the waka, gut the text, Say “no offence” and then what’s next? Whiteout laid on sacred vows, A crown still feeding off our cows. But when a haka breaks the floor, Spoken breath from tūpuna lore. That’s the crime. That gets time. Record ban for culture’s climb. Not for brawls or drunken spite, Not for slurs said late at night. Not for yelling over rules, Or turning Parliament into school. Just a haka. A roar. A stand. So they silenced it with shaking hands. Double standards, front and center: Culture’s punished. Chaos enters. They call it ...