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THE BLACK AND WHITE PHOTO
A black and white photo
still hung on the wall
in this lonely old house,
in this time faded hall.
The family all gone
there was nobody left
to love or to honor
Or to offer respect.
The sign out the front
said “For Auction – as is.
Old
World Charm, High Potential
Needs a touch of love
whiz!”
Many walked through the
house,
few looked and less saw
beyond grime on the
windows
and holes in the floor.
And as for the photo
Hell, why should they
care?
More junk to be rid of
like the tables and chair!
And the bloke in the photo
with the far-away eyes,
Were the badge on his
slouch hat
and his ribbons a prize?
For a wife or a mother
a sister or child’?
Surely someone had loved
him
been the reason he smiled?
A young Aussie Digger
with lines on his face
etched by the horrors
of a far away place.
He’d been young,
fancy-free
without a quid to his name
–
The wheat never grew
‘cause the rains never
came.
They promised adventure
and a regular wage!
They’d show him the world;
he could start a new page.
So he signed up in
Sydney
and he joined the Light
Horse.
Then they sent him to
Egypt
for a war training course.
These months full of heat
and the cold and the sand
and the drills
never-ending
were the test of a man.
Then again they embarked,
“destination unknown.”
Which was probably best
‘cause in Hell they were
thrown.
Under cover of darkness
the boys rowed ashore,
a few made the beach,
death claimed many more.
And the waves that were
lapping
at the edge of the sand
grew red with the blood
and the courage of man.
This scene it continued
day after day:
men fighting, men dying
men fading away.
Some wrote many letters
to loved ones at home.
Some even sent photos,
Hence the one in my poem.
He fell in a place
where a lone pine still
grows,
and he lies in a field
where the red poppies
blow.
But the bloke in the photo
with the far-away eyes,
he can’t tell his story
to their uncaring guise.
And the sign out the front
says “For Sale Still – as
is.
Old
World Charm, High Potential,
Needs a touch of love
whiz.”
He knows someone will see
as they walk through the
hall,
not the holes that need
fixing
or the dirt on the wall.
They’ll just see a photo
an old black and white
and they’ll feel they’ve
found home
that this one is right!
©
Jenny Markwell 2007
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