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In the Shadow of War - the Ukraine


War. International law. Rule of law. Mothers. Widows. Sisters. Brothers. Teachers. Coaches. Mourners. Egos. Fools. Lockdown. Safety. Screens. Games. Fortnite. 14 days. Electricity. Death. Eternity. Scars. Back to school. Cemetery. Games. Egos. Defend. Repel. Autonomy. Pandemic. Gas. Pride.

As war looms I am reminded of its futility. Raewyn Roberts, a great teacher of mine compiled a class book of poems about war and the contents of the work of a group of 12-year-olds, which I hold back so as not to ascribe the views herein to them unfairly.  I do attach my version. As my sons go back to school, I think of the parents on both sides and the impending waste of life.  Some might seek glory, faux heroism and real valour mixed together. Skill honed in video games, not so much by hunting, new weapons so impersonal and dismissive. Perhaps consequences learned on the rugby or league fields, (or the Ukrainian and Russian equivalents), in the ring, martial arts or wrestling mats are better than the habits and neural pathways learned solely from clicks. The rush of strong feeling, adrenaline without the potential or actual consequences of mutual physical pain.  Learning, learning. Fall down from that tree. Learning how to land. Being available to teach. The Hippocratic Oath, my hypocritical string of oaths. Yours Boomerly or thereabouts. I need to go fishing or just read "Old Man and the Sea". So do those soldiers, with their kids. Kids with kids, perhaps.