(With thanks to Trish Webster for her post of this event in her MURWILLUMBAH MATTERS group.)
I get up too late
but watch on video on facebook later.
Slow procession of cars in the rain.
People watching from under umbrellas or shop roofs.
Then, after a long gap, the repetitive drums.
The small contingents. (We are a small town.)
Those who march and those who straggle.
— Why do I suddenly weep? —
The State Emergency Services van.
And then the schools, by far the largest groups.
Shepherding teachers.
Parents on the sidelines with cameras.
Clapping.
‘LEFT RIGHT LEFT! LEFT RIGHT LEFT!’
the male voice shouts,
followed by a burst of music.
Now I’m a small child in Launceston
hearing the bagpipes
from high on my Dad’s shoulders,
both looking out for his mates.
Couldn’t fight himself for his gammy leg,
and couldn’t march either —
though he was always away at camp
in my first years of life, training
against possible invasion.
Onscreen, a man with a child on his shoulders
moves back under the awnings.
The fire trucks crawl past now,
always popular, cheery.
The end.
I watch all over again.
25/4/23
Note: I was born in November 1939, at the beginning of the Second World War.
Note for non-Aussies: ANZAC Day is an annual event held on April 25th, commemorating Australians and New Zealanders who lost their lives in all the military operations we have been involved in since World War I. There is a dawn service, followed by a march, in every town and city in Australia. It's a very big deal. This poem describes the latest one in this town, and also my memories of those that happened in my first home town when I was a child.
I'm sharing this with Poets and Storytellers United for Friday Writings #74: The Act of Paying Attention. I'm glad I had the unexpected opportunity to pay attention to this year's march in this town, rather than, as usual, watching the telecast of the Sydney march.
We just found a cousin who was unknowingly fathered by my dad's brother who died in the brutal Baatan Death March. It's become more real. I've been crying too.
ReplyDeleteSo many horrors happened!
DeleteOh wow. I got chills at the thought of being right there in the center of history. I suppose I've lived through a few historical events myself, but I don't think any of them are on camera. I do have a bunch of pictures from the first Woman's March on DC in 2017 when I went though. LOL, I'd be surprised if I got in any of the videos--there were so many of us!
ReplyDeleteI guess I was born into an important time historically, although I didn't of course know much about that until I was older. But the ANZAC Day march is an annual event here, all over the country. I have now added a note above, to that effect. It hadn't occurred to me that people elsewhere might not be aware of this; it's such a big thing here.
DeleteRommy, I was in Vancouver, B.C. marching at the same time as you. There were so many of us there, too! A historic moment deeply steeped in so much outrage, power and solidarity.
DeleteMuch fellow-feeling here too. I was already past my marching days for health reasons, though supportive in spirit, but many thousands here, in many locations, did join in the Women's March that day.
DeleteThere is something about people marching together that sticks to heart and skull. The sight and sound of it always takes me to a surreal sort of place, a place where pride, hope, and despair share a very similar face.
ReplyDeleteThat's very well put, Magaly. Yes, it is like that.
DeleteMy own marching has been for various protests, and could better be described as walking. The ANZAC marches are very military, including veterans, their descendants, and people currently serving in all the armed forces.
Each year I make every effort to trek downtown for the Memoria Day Parade, my tears flow freely as do others viewing the veterans, the bands, the tributes. Your poem today overwhelms.
ReplyDeleteAh yes, that sounds very like our ANZAC Day marches.
DeleteSomehow mystically full-circle to have lived through and then relived history in the now. When we pay tribute together as a group it is fulfilling.
ReplyDeleteYes, it becomes very emotional.
DeleteOne of life's little compensations: war is a bad thing, but veterans are special.
ReplyDeleteWell said, Priscilla!
DeleteA moving narration. It's seems wonderful to bring school kids into it, to pass on the memories and the lessons.
ReplyDeleteIn our town it would be a very small march without them! In the biggest cities they are not included in the march because it would take forever, but plenty are watching, and children descended from veterans march, wearing their fathers' or grandfathers' medals.
DeleteLittle kids love the formality display of adults, probably parades are highest on their lists. Their attention span is short though, easily distracted.
ReplyDelete..
In a small town, when a number of the men marching were family friends, my 'honorary uncles', that was enough to keep me interested – as well as the pleasure of riding on my father's shoulders.
DeleteANZAC units have great reputations in WW1, WW2 and even Vietnam. A special Aussie unit attacked and sunk Japanese ships in Singapore during WW2.
ReplyDeleteAs you say. (I thought you would be geographically near enough to have this awareness – but I myself didn't know about that Singapore event. War is horrible, and all lives lost are tragic, but given the circumstances I'm glad we were able to help in some small degree.)
Delete