Recording battlefield sites, the interior of the Sydney War Memorial in Hyde Park offers a kind of cataclysmic catechism, a series of answers for which there is no question.
This lamentation, this litany, invites recitation.
Whether aloud, if that is allowed within the hallowed hall.
Or in one's head, a silent internal navigation through places far away.
A poem without rhyme, or reason.
An ubi sunt prayer, the 'where are?' question echoing through the years.
