Air
The damselfly cannot hover without it,
the humpback whale can’t spout.
And from the moment, small and blue,
we’re catapulted from womb to world
our lungs make a pact with it to nourish us
whether we’re awake or asleep.
We need it to cross a room, a continent,
to see beyond our selves.
And yet we only think of it if, trapped
in a lift cage, an alarm rings in the heart
or if a sudden wave raises us
to the crest of terror in a rowing boat.
And isn’t the fear of dying the fear
of failing in the struggle to breathe it in?
So why do we rush round the world
smirching it with plumes from chemicals?
If only we could scrub it with the sea’s salt
or hoard it like gold in banks. If only
we lifted our voices every morning
and sang as we inhaled and exhaled air.
Subscribe to Quadrant magazine here…
Madam: Archbishop Fisher (July-August 2024) does not resist the attacks on his church by the political, social or scientific atheists and those who insist on not being told what to do.
Aug 29 2024
6 mins
To claim Aborigines have the world's oldest continuous culture is to misunderstand the meaning of culture, which continuously changes over time and location. For a culture not to change over time would be a reproach and certainly not a cause for celebration, for it would indicate that there had been no capacity to adapt. Clearly this has not been the case
Aug 20 2024
23 mins
A friend and longtime supporter of Quadrant, Clive James sent us a poem in 2010, which we published in our December issue. Like the Taronga Park Aquarium he recalls in its 'mocked-up sandstone cave' it's not to be forgotten
Aug 16 2024
2 mins