A Haunting
St Mary’s, Isles of Scilly
The high bracken is full of spirits—its prehistoric
scent takes me home to childhood in Kent,
blackberrying, beating back the sap-filled stems
to reach brambles no one else can be bothered with,
fearing, and longing to see, the deft flick of an adder.
The spirits of that village are here now,
clear as day in the island light that’s half sky,
half water,—Nanny, old Nunc, Mrs Noakes
and Mr Palmer, Mr and Mrs Monk, those girls—
Michelle and Maureen—none living now—
(not as the mainland understands living), but present
in these dense acres of green where I’m lost,
surrounded by sea, not knowing
where I’m going—nor quite where I’ve been.
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