Member-only story
Lest we Forget Anzac Day
Shivering through the ceremony my skin prickles with the chill
it’s still so early the sun isn’t up
the leather of new school shoes is so tight I’ve lost sensation in my toes
I breathe out mist like a horse standing on frosted grass
fingers shake holding a copy of the poem I already know
A veteran’s hands quiver rhythmically too
not from cold but from palsy
A thin man sits lopsided in an oversized jacket
as though he left part of himself behind on a battlefield
weighed down one side with rows of medals he won
feats of bravery that I can’t comprehend
Another Vietnam Vet shakes too
loose skin on his neck is vibrating as he tries not to sob in silence
hearing long sombre notes of The Last Post
played by a trumpeter in a tight blue suit
Light hasn’t crept to the cenotaph yet
the day is still a dull and leaden grey
overcast as tears spill over in the eyes of the elderly
who’ve taken uniforms out of mothballs on this Anzac Day
