A Walk in Martin Place Remembering Lindt Cafe
As I walked
And looked,
Upon the rain-wet
Surfaces,
Of Martin Place,
A glow in me
Mirrored
The sheen of light
Upon
The scene.
Martin Place:
Monument of memories.
Dandy dashers
Grasp a quick bouquet,
To take to lovers
On the way
To romance.
Others snatch,
A printed read
Of newspapers,
For a daily feed.
Military men
Women,
And their beloved,
Stand in sentinel,
Reminiscent
Of standing guard
Over national security.
Monument
To bustling business
And busy-ness,
To commerce,
To remembrance of war.
But, there is more
To tell.
As, remember well,
We do.
Don’t you?
That other war,
That breaks out
Like a pesky rash
In unwanted places,
Afflicting us where
We expect not.
It broke out,
Up the way,
At our much loved
Lindt Cafe.
We remember
The footage:
Journos palpably posed
And poised
Before the plight
Of those held within,
And of their loved ones,
Held hostage too,
By their powerless worries.
We return and remember,
Now in greater peace,
And release
From that torment.
The Lindt Cafe
Is a welcome sight again.
A place to go when
On one level, we enjoy
Hospitality.
And, on another,
Lift our cup
For sacrifice,
In service
Of liberty.
We recall the fallen,
Their grieved families,
As we walk on,
Grateful
To be free.
Simon C.J. Falk 15 July 2017
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