Luke Whitington: ‘Weighing the odds’, ‘Dutiful and distanced, at Pittwater’ and ‘At the funeral’
Weighing the odds
Time turns us into historians
Then history waits at the door
You remember the voices
Of the sea. How they spoke
In the fathomless language
Of Atlantis—roars for evermore, evermore.
You dream of dancing
(Did you once?) like a Cossack
From leg to leg, stamping eloquence.
Walking is a shadow of what it was, once.
Beyond
All your reflections, beyond
The names that evade
Your memory—the faces remain
Like the leaves, burning in autumn light.
Passing in the bus
You watch the young
Walking furiously—
Latecomers, catching up with history.
Luke Whitington
Dutiful and distanced, at Pittwater
The moored boats
Are all aligned
In one common intention
Toward the horizon
Depicting dusk, sunset, dawn, sunrise
Pointing toward one wide arc of time
Dutiful and distanced, like
Worshippers of the ascending
Descending, variants of light
Like prowed congregations
Drawn to a celebration of light;
Moored to the moon
Moored to the sun
Moored to the stillness—
Congregations of middays and midnights
Now surging on a swell, swaying in unison
A metronome of masts, moves
Rolling forward and back
To a gravity of unheard music
Then calm again, intention, direction restored
Masts bristling in ash-white forests
Waiting for a renaissance of sails
And later congregated toward the night sky
Masts becoming golden, golden wands
Pointing toward the paused full moon
Gazing down from her perch of mellow aloneness
Down at her silent flock, again dutiful and distanced
Swinging about in unison
Worshippers of time
Arranged, still or swaying
Aligned with the changing sky.
Luke Whitington
At the funeral
We can’t help
Laughing helplessly
At tragedy, if hats
Decide suddenly
To fly into the air.
We love to trip up
Solemnity
Life is hard
We can do with a bruised laugh or two
What did you say?
About your knees, dear?
Age letting you down, again?
A cartwheel or two should fix it.
Luke Whitington
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