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Writer:-Valerie Volk, Friendly Street Poets
South Australia
LOOKING INWARD
He thinks about that moment
when they put him in the ground.
Dull thud of earth as beefy men
began to fill the grave.
He’d walked away,
sounds ringing in his ears.
The old house quiet, empty now,
full of shades and memories,
of projects started, never quite completed.
The grey stooped figure, still
with fire in his eyes, indomitable.
“Last of the Aussie battlers …”
Who’d said that? His Mum,
before she passed? Or someone
from the local pub?
Home paddock littered with machines.
Old headers, harvesters, a tractor
from before the war, back in the days
when there was still a farm to run,
a crop to harvest, sheep to crutch.
Now a graveyard to lost hopes.
Like this one, once the family truck.
It’s rusted, pockmarked,
windows that no longer wind,
a relic of the good old times.
He leans there on the window ledge,
remembering Sunday rides,
a treat for Mum and kids,
a respite from the labours of the week.
The years before it all went wrong.
Lost causes, daunted hopes.
He shuts his eyes, recalls the man
he’d never really known,
but dimly understands
he’ll always miss.