Friday Poem: Anzac

shadowI woke up quite early this morning, before dawn, and wrote this poem by the scarce moonlight. I confess that I then drifted back to sleep, thinking of  the farm boys and shop boys, dressed up in khaki and carrying rifles, who innocently disembarked as they were told to, on a lonely Turkish beach…99 years ago. All of the survivors, even those who lied about their age and were only fifteen at the time are now dead, and the tenor of the day, once a reminder to never do it again, is subtly changing to something rather different…

5.56 am
A fingernail paring
of moon
Bright in the window.

This is the morning
For early rising
A day of remembrance
And dawn services.

But I am afraid
of what is forgotten –
The futility
of war.

positiveI took the two photos after I and the sun were well and truly “up”. I find shadows fascinating and often photograph them – this time I decided to get the things casting the shadow as well.  They are, I think, appropriate for this post, because the unfortunate Anzac campaign cast a very long shadow in Australian society, not least by the absence of a generation of men.

Let’s not forget that there was no good reason, none at all.

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