© The Floral Wreath
We were driving past the Cenotaph and I saw a floral wreath;
Perhaps a remnant left over from last Anzac Day.
Or instead a private gesture from somebody still in grief,
Caused by the ignominious death of young soldiers in Afghanistan
– that sandy hell-on-earth so far away.
I watched a documentary and behold the coral reef;
Has become as white as a sepulchral monument.
Still the climate-change sceptic’s denials just beggar belief,
Maybe the floods and wild tornadoes that have ravaged up in Queensland
- are caused by God or Allah, just for devilment.
The plight of live cattle exports is causing public quarrel; beef...
Sent to Indonesia to be slaughtered in the halal way.
The hypocrisy and the heresy is just simmering underneath,
Nary a thought for grain-fed bovine clones and over sized chicken bones
- washed down with coke at countless takeaways.
I watched the flotsam and jetsam that had formed a ‘floral wreath’,
Mesmerised like a rabbit in the lights of a passing car.
Scattered around Christmas island in a ghastly leitmotif,
A recurring theme you often see: refugees as refuse on the sea
- all their Christmases come at once, so near yet so far.
And I like to remember yet another laurel wreath,
Although made of plastic, it adorned our front door.
To welcome friends and neighbours who come armed to the teeth,
With bottles of wine and cakes so fine, all the trimmings of the season
- to indulge ourselves, pause, and recall those soldier boys once more.