All Saints and the Day of an Operation
By midnight, All Souls, you will be sleeping
the sleep of the drugged, wake in a grey light
and wonder where you are, touch your wound
think the bed lamp is a moon. Above
where no eye can see the saints
have done their handover like a shift
of nursing staff. Supremely confident
white-winged, white-coated who
on earth were often strained and queer
devout in ways that lead to awful consequence
which now they float free from: extreme
to extreme reward. All Souls brings
your breakfast on a tray, the human scope.
Your wound will be dressed, you sit up
marvelling at the ordinary, the complete
that cannot be removed by surgery.
Elizabeth Smither
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