Closing the Box
His box held war medals, pay book, discharge papers,
photos of soldiers from his years in the desert: young men
riding donkeys, horses, camels, young men larking in the sun.
A battered tin box at the bottom of his wardrobe
with a gift of sepia photos swimming in and out of focus,
soldiers riding in “The Gaza Cup” one New Year’s Day.
I cannot find my father in the serum of spectators,
among men tearing down a makeshift track, but he’d be
there somewhere, our champion rider and first class larrikin.
I tried to close the box, but something caught
on rusted corners; my fingers shaking with the huge, hard sobs
of someone who never weeps and does not know how
but knows that this would soon be all I had of him.
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