He used to get legless at Weekends
Posted: Sun Oct 16, 2011 8:04 am
He used to get legless on Weekends
He remembered a voice saying over and over
‘you’re not alone Mate we’re getting you home’
Did he imagine it? Was it a dream?
He couldn’t remember his legs felt like stone.
He was a passenger, there on a stretcher
just one of many in an orderly queue
the hands that reached down to lift him and carry
were hoary and work worn but so gentle to.
He recalled that his Mum often told him when younger
that actions speak louder than words ever will
and that fact had been proven here time and again
and he also thought angels quite fitted the bill
He thought back in Oz they would read all about it
in the Sunday papers as they ate lamb roast
How a Taliban missile caused a plane full of diggers
to explode in a fireball – and turned them to toast.
He remembered the cooling feel of the water
a fleeting release. He began swimming home
but he didn’t appear to be making much headway
both legs uncooperative – anchors of stone.
And that was the last though he had up till now,
he must have blacked out from the shock and the pain.
He heard a young medic in a voice filled with anguish
say ‘ that young blokes legless, doubt that he’ll walk again.’
Oh his Mum would be angry, she’d be bloody mad
he could see her now - she’d be fit to be tied
if he threw the towel in – not that she’d let him
he heard her voice saying “ Boy you haven’t tried.”
They were flying him home – there were just six survivors
and he thought of his home out there at Reservoir.
He knew that the road ahead would be a hard one
he’d need every ounce of his courage for sure.
But he was a survivor and for that he was thankful
no more fallen empires would his size tens see.
He thought he heard his long gone Dad’s voice say softly
‘ I helped you to walk when you were a baby.
You’ll not walk alone Son – I’m right here beside you
between us we’ll do it and make your Mum proud.
I love you my boy - though you always knew it.”
His eyes searched for his Father. He saw only cloud.
Maureen Clifford © 10/11
He remembered a voice saying over and over
‘you’re not alone Mate we’re getting you home’
Did he imagine it? Was it a dream?
He couldn’t remember his legs felt like stone.
He was a passenger, there on a stretcher
just one of many in an orderly queue
the hands that reached down to lift him and carry
were hoary and work worn but so gentle to.
He recalled that his Mum often told him when younger
that actions speak louder than words ever will
and that fact had been proven here time and again
and he also thought angels quite fitted the bill
He thought back in Oz they would read all about it
in the Sunday papers as they ate lamb roast
How a Taliban missile caused a plane full of diggers
to explode in a fireball – and turned them to toast.
He remembered the cooling feel of the water
a fleeting release. He began swimming home
but he didn’t appear to be making much headway
both legs uncooperative – anchors of stone.
And that was the last though he had up till now,
he must have blacked out from the shock and the pain.
He heard a young medic in a voice filled with anguish
say ‘ that young blokes legless, doubt that he’ll walk again.’
Oh his Mum would be angry, she’d be bloody mad
he could see her now - she’d be fit to be tied
if he threw the towel in – not that she’d let him
he heard her voice saying “ Boy you haven’t tried.”
They were flying him home – there were just six survivors
and he thought of his home out there at Reservoir.
He knew that the road ahead would be a hard one
he’d need every ounce of his courage for sure.
But he was a survivor and for that he was thankful
no more fallen empires would his size tens see.
He thought he heard his long gone Dad’s voice say softly
‘ I helped you to walk when you were a baby.
You’ll not walk alone Son – I’m right here beside you
between us we’ll do it and make your Mum proud.
I love you my boy - though you always knew it.”
His eyes searched for his Father. He saw only cloud.
Maureen Clifford © 10/11