A Walk in #MartinPlace Remembering #LindtCafe


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
……………………..


We Are The World Blogfest posts good news stories on the final Friday of each month.  More here.

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Taken

TemoraCenotaph2015

Taken

We who are left behind do not know, taste and smell the real horrors of war. It is relayed to us. We see it in those who return. Occasionally, at times like Anzac Day, we are given a rare gift of empathy with those affected by war. We are somehow taken into their experience. We are also taken to a place of raw emotion ourselves.

Taken

(i)

They were taken

By a cause

By ‘the Services’

To the front.

They were taken

And some

Were never given back.

(ii)

Some returned,

Some with spirits broken,

An innocence in them

Taken away.

As we think on them

We are taken

By their courage and sacrifice.

We are taken

By their pain

Their listless, wistful

Half-lived life.

(iii)

At memorial services

We are taken

As the hymns play

And we are taken

Somewhere deep within.

Where we hear:

Whistling shells,

The crack of guns,

And booms of cannons,

And drones of aircraft fly by.

The sound hits upon us

Like a torrent of rushing waters

And we feel as if we

Are taken

Under,

Drowning in a sea of war.

(iv)

At Dawn Services

We are taken

In the silence before the dawn

By the solemn flying over

Of planes in peace time,

Like sentinels,

Guarding our ritual remembrance.

We are taken by their care.

BarellanMonument2015

Simon C.J Falk           25/26 April 2015

Little One

Little One

Surely the saddest funerals or memorial services that we attend are for children. The verse below accounts one I led recently for some parishioners who are really friends as well.

Be warned – it may trigger emotions for some. 

Little One

For Anonymous

(i)

Children heralded your coming.

We waited

As you were formed

Like seed sprouting

From succulent soil.

Then

We heard

The tender shoot

That is you

Had withered.

How the pain hit

Like scorching sun

Over a shoot

In a dreadful drought

The sandblasting wind

Buffeting us

Bruising our tender hearts,

Longing hearts,

That had

Been full

Of expectation.

So we handed you over,

Dear little one,

Handed you to

The refining fire.

The cleansing, burning, bright flames

To shine in our inner darkness.

There they sat

Your ashes.

For a time.

Until the summons,

The gathering of the clans

Who would come

With tears in eyes

But love in their hearts.

They were clad

In joyous

Verdant

Floral frocks

Brimming with life and colour.

They formed

A cushion

Of caressing care

To carry you

On the wings of prayer

To where angels dwell.

He has gone to join the angels

And is singing angelic song

Do not doubt his destination

For with God he does belong.

(ii)

And they carried others too

Those Colourful Companions of care.

They carried your parents

Who

Exhausted by their grief

Needed a fence of family

Around them

To keep the darkness out

Or hold them

In those dark moments

Of heavy eyelids

And limp limbs.

Little one

We will remember you

Please remember them

Who love you oh so dear.

But they may find some consolation

That you are loved so fully in heaven

As well as with us here.

Simon C.J. Falk           29 October 2014

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