In a perfect world we would never need to remember...
But pray we never forget
for History forgotten is History repeated!
(photos from one of the memorial parks we visited; this one at the Port of Sydney)
That was real blood and mud and tears
That stabbed their teeth and eyes
So we can kiss curls
Of very real boys and girls
And sing them sweet lullabies
That was real fear and fire that burned
At the cost of a nation’s sons
So the future could stand
With a dream in their hand
Not the dread of loaded guns
That was real love and life that lay
‘neath the splay of smoke and sky
So this plot of loam
That we call home
Could raise freedom’s banner high
That was real horror; a glimpse of hell
Where the shell of bombs still stains
The fields and streets
Where commerce competes
On the ashes of what remains
That was real Now that shaped history
And the crosses of those who gave all
Where none have the ‘right’
With Freedom’s hind-sight
To pillage Past’s scar-stricken hall
That was real cost; where the price of war
Proves freedom is never free
And each drop we sip
From its Cup that we tip
Should foster gratuity
© Janet Martin
