Crowning Effect

Ochre curtains drape themselves upon the scene, a fire burns in the grate.  There, she stands, hand out in greeting, head at least twelve inches lower than the chiefs she welcomes, gold braid and lapels singing on ceremony.  I’m stiff, her actions say, while sporting a coiffure of grace.  She wears a dress and shoes, pearls at her throat, taking the eye from her skin, no one noticing the paper wrinkles.

Chairs are placed beside her, formulated for speech and recognition.  Tea and biscuits will arrive, and the threesome will thrive on words of culture.  There’s a camera crew taking photos.  This must be logged.  A life recorded.  Headliners, no matter you only want peace.  That’s not to be.  Commitment is hers and that commitment must be cut in lasting images.  A smile is required.  Always a smile, except when it’s not.  Some situations demand solemnity and then is it perhaps easier?  Is it easier to frown than smile?  Her eyes display show, not tell treaties.  Light is in them but the soul remains locked apart, for her interpretation only.  And yet one doesn’t look unapproachable.  One may approach dignity with dignity, with permission granted.  Only ever then.

Hear, hear says the new defence services secretary.  It’s an honour.  Only those present know what’s said, but it will be noted in the history manuals.  Those will scribe discourse.  They will allow future people, people still to be born, people who wish to look back to realise the nature of this era, to know how it was.  Is it so that time brings clarity?  Hindsight brings vision.  What will we learn from this?  I think we will learn about commitment, patience, strength of will, steadfastness, duty.  May we also learn of scarcity?  Scarcity of public solidarity.  Distance must prevail.