shoot up

On ANZAC Day the shooting starts again.

The gnarly wizzen faces of those men

and women who know memories are built

at least the ones re-membered in their gilt

and bronze commemoration plaques around

the garden edges and some seats there  found.

The comrad’ry from suffering, and such,

and sharing hardships, helps so very much

to make a person less empty at best

than otherwise they might be when they're blest

with goods and services abounding here,

while yet their empty lives will make it clear

that humans thrive when they are sharing life,

thus cultures/social-constructs (husband/wife;

and friends who keep the other in their mind,

are part of what we humans do now find

to be quite indispensable for growth,

and thriving, not just maintenance, - well both.

And somehow for a while on Anzac Day,

we once again remember the price paid

of life and health in this place where we're hurled

for this short time, that points to other worlds

invisible to eyes that just see light,

where honour, love and friendship are more bright,

like fireworks that's shot up to celebrate,

a soldier who is more than that, - a mate,

and life takes on a brighter sheen just then,

a bigger life sends shoots up once again!