By Artie Goad
Stark silhouettes stand
Sentry still
Silent sentinels
Cenotaph
Lamp posts
Palm trees
Sky sketched shadows
Dark before dawn
Poems past piped
Pierce the present
Anzac Park
Nelson
2012
Dawn service again
26 April 2012
29 March 2012
The She Tiger
By Artie Goad
I travelled the entire length of the North Island and crossed the Cook Strait to see her, to look after her. Like she had looked after me. That was more than four long, hard years ago and I've been to see her...twice? Three times? Not more than four, that's for sure. I should be ashamed and I am! Why is it so hard?
All I remember about the night she came to get me was flying and the lights. There were lights, bright lights, and I think I remember being carried but I was so young and so small. How do you know if you can trust what you think you remember when you are little. Little and helpless. She always said that I imagined things that never happened. She brought me home though. She brought me home and never left me alone again, although I left her plenty of times. She was always there with me though. You don't get rid of someone who loves you so fiercely very easily. She was always ferocious in her love for me, for us.
The others! I think about the others and wonder. What stops them from coming back, for good? Then we could go and see her together. We could look after her, like she looked after us. Like she looked after us for all of those long, hard years. They could all come back, for good. Then we could laugh together like we used to. She used to look at us all, laughing and laughing, at a smile, a word, at an eyebrow raised or a lift of a head. Then we would start together, low and loud, the laughter would grow and fill our ears until it seemed like we would all be together forever. She, and others, would glance at us, wondering what was so funny. I don't think any of us really knew either. Why don't they come back for good then. For my good. I need them and nobody knows. Nobody has ever known.
Then again, others would glance at us and cast a furtive glance at her. You could almost hear their thoughts, like they had wondered aloud. An innocent question. An innocent comment. Then she would have to look after us, protect us, from them. Like a she tiger defending her cubs, man, look out then boy! She was ferocious and fearless but she didn't have the thick skins that we grew to protect ourselves. Each innocent question, each innocent comment, cut her and I cry easily at the memory. Yes, we grew bulletproof hides even though she was always there to defend each and every one of us. In the end those hides cut her just as deep as any outsider's wonderings. We wouldn't, couldn't, let her in, let anybody in. We had learned to protect ourselves at all costs. She bore scars that never healed. So why can't I go and see her? Why cant I look after her now that she needs me?
My wife does what I cannot. It is my wife that makes the thirty minute drive from our house, did I move here to have the excuse of too much distance to do what is right? Please, God no! It is my wife who pulls in to the entrance and heads up the long drive and parks by the tree. A short walk down the hill over the ragged lawn and she is always there ready to meet her but waiting for me. I know I should go. I know I should be the one to look after her. But it hurts too much. Even after four long, hard years, it hurts too much. Forgive me Mum, I love you too much to let you go easily, to let you rest in peace!
 |
| Dad and Mum before the "tribe" arrived. |
All I remember about the night she came to get me was flying and the lights. There were lights, bright lights, and I think I remember being carried but I was so young and so small. How do you know if you can trust what you think you remember when you are little. Little and helpless. She always said that I imagined things that never happened. She brought me home though. She brought me home and never left me alone again, although I left her plenty of times. She was always there with me though. You don't get rid of someone who loves you so fiercely very easily. She was always ferocious in her love for me, for us.
The others! I think about the others and wonder. What stops them from coming back, for good? Then we could go and see her together. We could look after her, like she looked after us. Like she looked after us for all of those long, hard years. They could all come back, for good. Then we could laugh together like we used to. She used to look at us all, laughing and laughing, at a smile, a word, at an eyebrow raised or a lift of a head. Then we would start together, low and loud, the laughter would grow and fill our ears until it seemed like we would all be together forever. She, and others, would glance at us, wondering what was so funny. I don't think any of us really knew either. Why don't they come back for good then. For my good. I need them and nobody knows. Nobody has ever known.
Then again, others would glance at us and cast a furtive glance at her. You could almost hear their thoughts, like they had wondered aloud. An innocent question. An innocent comment. Then she would have to look after us, protect us, from them. Like a she tiger defending her cubs, man, look out then boy! She was ferocious and fearless but she didn't have the thick skins that we grew to protect ourselves. Each innocent question, each innocent comment, cut her and I cry easily at the memory. Yes, we grew bulletproof hides even though she was always there to defend each and every one of us. In the end those hides cut her just as deep as any outsider's wonderings. We wouldn't, couldn't, let her in, let anybody in. We had learned to protect ourselves at all costs. She bore scars that never healed. So why can't I go and see her? Why cant I look after her now that she needs me?
My wife does what I cannot. It is my wife that makes the thirty minute drive from our house, did I move here to have the excuse of too much distance to do what is right? Please, God no! It is my wife who pulls in to the entrance and heads up the long drive and parks by the tree. A short walk down the hill over the ragged lawn and she is always there ready to meet her but waiting for me. I know I should go. I know I should be the one to look after her. But it hurts too much. Even after four long, hard years, it hurts too much. Forgive me Mum, I love you too much to let you go easily, to let you rest in peace!
 |
| Dad, Robyn, Mum, Karen Me, Glen, Grandpop, Nana, Darryl |
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