E rau rangatira mā, e ngā reo, e ngā mana

Tēnā koutou katoa

(I acknowledge amongst us today our distinguished leaders, speakers and those who bear authority)

Ngāi Tahu Whānui, tēnā koutou

(My greetings to the whole of Ngāi Tahu)

E papaki tū ana ngā tai o maumahara ki runga o Ōtautahi

(The tides of remembrance flow over Christchurch today)

Haere mai tātou me te aroha,

(So let us gather with love)

Me te rangimārie, ki te whānau nei,

(In peace, for this family)

E ora mārire ai anō rātau,

(So that they may truly live again)

E ora mārire ai anō, tātou katoa.

(So that we all may truly live again)

We gather here, 14 days on from our darkest of hours.

In the days that have followed the terrorist attack on the 15th of March, we have often found ourselves without words.

What words adequately express the pain and suffering of 50 men, women and children lost, and so many injured?

What words capture the anguish of our Muslim community being the target of hatred and violence?

What words express the grief of a city that has already known so much pain?

I thought there were none. And then I came here and was met with this simple greeting.

Asalamu Aleykum. Peace be upon you.

They were simple words, repeated by community leaders who witnessed the loss of their friends and loved ones.

Simple words, whispered by the injured from their hospital beds.

Simple words, spoken by the bereaved and everyone I met who has been affected by this attack.

Asalamu Aleykum. Peace be upon you.

They were words spoken by a community who, in the face of hate and violence, had every right to express anger but instead opened their doors for all of us to grieve with them.

And so we say to those who have lost the most, we may not have always had the words.

We may have left flowers, performed the haka, sung songs or simply embraced.

But even when we had no words, we still heard yours, and they have left us humbled and they have left us united.

Over the past two weeks we have heard the stories of those impacted by this terrorist attack.

They were stories of bravery.

They were stories of those who were born here, grew up here, or who had made New Zealand their home.

Who had sought refuge, or sought a better life for themselves or their families.

These stories, they now form part of our collective memories.

They will remain with us forever.

They are us.