© 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.
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