Memories are footprints

Val Parry, Fish Hoek

We stand and cheer at marching time, the banners and the brass; we stand to hear the drums beat out war songs as they pass.

“Stand for freedom!” is our call as fear becomes blind hate that stands now, in the bloodshed that flowers – oh! So late.

We stand, aware that memories are footprints in the spring; but still we stare, with salted eyes at what our waste may bring. Yet, we stand. Still.