Ceremony

So it might be a reclusive form of naiveté that we’ve 

never needed to come to terms with yet - and that’s 

as scary as bet-hedging on futures left largely to an 

idiomatic she’ll be right expression, simply because 

its always been done that way; and yet a 100 or so 

years invested in discerning wood from trees isn’t a 

panacea you’d lean a century of History upon - not 

for a sane reason - unless you’re avoiding Gallipoli 

All those years coming to terms with ‘leaving’ made 

it seem Service For Your Country had more cogent 

meaning greater than simple uniform wearing - that 

soldiering was saintly sacrifice or something like it - 

but the irony’s in who makes the play practically an 

obligation to be seen again in self-same khakis; or 

Am I dreaming we are desirably symbolic of some 

ideal we mustn't forget about too quickly, specially 

if the easier way to scam a quick buck or three off 

populations wearied of military ceremony, rhetoric,

and beaches with dawn parades to watch a sun’s 

rays spread word he’s never coming home again 

© 25 April 2015, I. D. Carswell