I was reminded of the wintry wastes of Antarctica today by three things: the bleedin’ ‘orrible weather for one; second, a reader asking if we had the Erebus (right) commemorative poem by Bill Manhire, read by Sir Edmund Hillary at the 25th anniversary of the crash recently; and third, by the IIML newsletter, whose readers are also apparently keen to see the work of the institution’s director (Manhire). So thanks for the pointer, IIML …

And there it is, on the NZ Poetry Society's website. Just scroll down and you’ll find it. Erebus Voices.

My lovely old sixth form French teacher was on the plane. Miss Price. She had just retired, and the trip was her dream. I had dreams later too, about the horror of the crash, and Miss Price’s part in it – and when I first read the poem I was surprised to find that the phrases ‘debris trail’ and ‘break apart’ actually made my stomach clench.

But ... horrific pictures are in all our minds when we think of the crash. There’s no point in trying to pretty it up or avoid the fact. Good to confront it, in fact. But the way Bill Manhire deals with that is like a soothing hot-cold, hot-cold anti-inflammatory balm for the fevered brain. And I didn’t actually realise how much Miss Price and I needed that.

I always find that when I read a seriously good poem I get a kind of tunnel vision effect, and everything goes very quiet … I almost forgot to breathe when I read this one.