|
 |
The Unknown Warrior
Wait till the war is over
And we're both a little older - Jim Morrison
'It's all over for the unknown soldier,'
sang Morrison, almost 40 years ago.
Back then they were fighting a different war,
but to me it was the same old song.
80 years on, when they brought home from
France our very own 'unknown warrior', and paraded
him through the streets, I was reminded
of that song and the way it was performed - as theatre.
After the bullet, Jim would play dead. He was trying to awaken
people to the realities and open their doors of perception,
the way those doors are never opened, simply
by parade in gun carriage and funeral oration - the
honourable act of 'national pride'. During a war, it's
those at home who are hit the hardest; it's never over, for some.
Wellington 11 November 2004, Armistice Day
Downtown Notes, on paper
(For Tony Towle)
Walking around
I cut the size of a building
down to size. It's far
taller than the length of her body, say,
oddly swaying now in the breeze -
That woman, ahead, I don't know her,
but I wonder, what does she want?
Carrying all of summer in her dress, I follow her, and
envisage a growing winter in her eyes. It's the Fall,
she leads me to, first, if I pursue her. I enter a shop
there are crowds of people
and they all want, want, want...but even so
I mightn't have it, and that's probably what they think,
and all I care for. Right now this 'song in town'
is looking for direction. I take the side
of the building outside and set it free.
I watch it rise; it looms over me once more
on its way back to the clouds, and from whence it came, initially,
into view. It's what these people might believe
or want, like a telephone line permanently hanging in the distance,
a disappointing heaven. Meanwhile, a coffee calls.
And I, gladly, take it.
Boxing Day 2006
©Mark Pirie
|
 |
