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.