they also serve..*

  (a sonnet for Anzac Day)

With all the rest you stand and wave,

and from your summer dress your arm

exalts and lifts your brave

heart too, as striding down the palm-

strewn avenue they come to raise

you up.  With fluttered hand you bring

them on;  your fingers writing praise

and lifting voices up to sing.

You raise your arm to wave,

and in its secret hollow:  blue.

Still smooth from your last shave -

and this so very mortal part of you

just in this moment makes things good.  It makes things well,

and makes a lighter journey of the heavy steps from hell.

*from John Milton's sonnet   "On His Blindness"