Is ANZAC Day about old men that
march in ever fewer lines with
memories as steady steps that
only some now distant hear?
In silence they tread with thoughts
about those days of death and bravery,
when some came home and others
stayed in burial places roughly laid.
And they remember too the silence
of the guns that fell on all the wars across
the years to leave its mark of joy and grief
and wonder about why the horror occurred
at all and what the steady steps now mean
as men march forward to the heavy beat.