and I cried just briefly

ANZAC Day 2010 ~ Photograph: Julie Clarke 21.04.2010

I don't know who these men are except that they were soldiers. They marched with their medals and their memories. Many in the crowd who had gathered to show their recognition, respect and gratitude, clapped their hands ~ what else can be done? Some shouted out or waved an Australian flag on the end of a stick. It's a small gesture. Media chatter advocating that ANZAC Day was a celebration of war and of the deeds of 'white men' dissolved in the overwhelming silence. It was a solemn occasion, as the soldiers marched and the people watched. I tried to get a sense of what people were thinking. Their faces, serious and strained ~ many would have already attended the Dawn Service at the Shrine of Remembrance ~ it was a cold morning, but not as cold at 11am as it would have been at five. What was I thinking as I watched the crowd. It seemed appropriate somehow that Red Fragments was part of the backdrop as the parade passed Collins Street, but here ~ now, was something present that transcended any artwork about blood, slaughter and death. I thought, of course about my father and his father, but as I looked at those marching I could only see young men ~ too young, sent to war, to fight, to die ~ if not physically then inside, where the pain still lay. And it was on their faces ~ eyes ahead, or off in the distance ~ in their own thoughts and I cried just briefly for all those lost to war or pain. I think that for many, these soldiers, who have been through a horrendous experience that they just can't talk about, represent their own life struggles ~ and so, we see in them the courage that we too must draw upon each day.