Away from You
Watching on the platform for a train
I notice from the corner of an eye
the man with a slender back, in a blue shirt,
head and shoulders above the jostling crowd.
For half a second I think it might be you
whose form is so imprinted on my brain,
so wanted by my eyes and ears, my skin,
that when we are apart it stays with me.
Your image is renewed when I come home
and saved for solace in the time ahead
when I cannot expect to see your face
or feel your body’s warmth within our bed.
For then, a stranger passing in the street
who seems to have your walk, so straight and tall,
will haunt me with the thought of all I’ve lost
and leave me staring like a homeless waif.
Many will disagree, but World War III is too great a risk to run by involving ourselves in a distant border conflict
Sep 25 2024
5 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