On 23 September 2022
Half a league from Canberra's runway
Atop a hill, beside the lake:
Ngunnawal and Ngambri country,
Sand-born Dreaming in mosaic.
Artisans, your rest forsake!
Rise from slumber, and return
Down the word-mine once again.
Hear the chosen voices of our nation
Attest her timeless grace from every wing.
Noisy, storm-swept sea spray splash oration:
Sympathetic memories they bring;
And then proclaim—Now hail our new-made King!
Return each to their seat and yield the floor
Day is yet young—there will be many more.
Harken now to every plangent word:
All say their piece, no argument foment;
No ringing bells, no interjection heard—
Sorry Business overrules dissent.
Among them voices calling in lament
Reminding all assembled that we ought
Deliberate on hurt that Empire wrought.
Hour on hour, proceedings make their way
And monitors change silently throughout;
Notes handed down, so at the end of day
Scribes may review, resolving any doubt.
At last, three bells—elected shuffle out;
Ragged sentence fragments said,
Destined for the work ahead.
Here the smiths pick up the scent
And search for words meant but not seen;
Now cast them to convey intent,
Set like sapphires on the screen.
At last, fine prose and as they mean;
Read through, approve. Reflect upon
Day's duty done; lights out—we're gone.
3 October 2022
A shorter version of this poem appeared on 24 September 2022; the brief for that version was to describe the events of the day in an acrostic poem, written on the following day.
While those goals were met, I felt the result gave only a keyhole view of what amounted to a narrow slice through the day—both in terms of the events of the day and of our part in them; so here it is expanded, to provide a less close-up view.
You may find the original more appealing, and I have some sympathy for that view—other considerations aside, this version does not benefit from the Rule of Three; but like any art, both are at best a beautiful lie. Keats made an equation of Truth and Beauty; he's commonly taken to have meant that beauty brings with it its own truth, but perhaps it can also be read as indicating their equivalence in a different way—as Einstein revealed for energy and mass. If so then perhaps—if this is a zero-sum game—I've exchanged a scrap of elegance for a little truth; making this less beautiful, but also a lesser lie. And perhaps in time, with a little varnish, some of its shortcomings may be addressed.