The threads that bind

[my elegy in memory of Michael Wilson, paramedic killed on Christmas Eve in our bioregion. For readers overseas: the first line refers to the annual Sydney-Hobart yacht race; the MCG in the second line is the Melbourne Cricket Ground, site of the annual Boxing Day cricket match; the Shire in the third line is Sutherland Shire in Sydney’s south]

The threads that bind

Ropes cast off on the harbour, Mexican
waves rippling the MCG, & Mick Wilson
no longer here. Paramedic from the Shire,
he gets the call on Christmas Eve. This

one’s got the chopper dragonfly-droning
over Carrington Falls, highland space
of the endangered grevillea we placed
near the creek, mauve anemone tentacles

lighting up the gloom. His three kids
edgy with the excitement of one more
sleep while a tourist stuck in a far ravine
clings to him, a saviour swinging steep

from a metal thread. Cradling the man,
he pushes off the ledge with all the fall
of birth, his body a shield breaking
its heart as it hits the opposite wall

& in the homes of hundreds saved
lights go out on tinselled trees.
Above kids’ beds webs of Indian
dream-catchers tremble. One more sleep.

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~ by Peter Lach-Newinsky on January 10, 2012.

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