3 Weeks in Holsworthy

As I turn 50 next week – I am reflecting on life. I think this is fairly typical human behaviour when faced with a significant birthday.

I have no regrets. Well, maybe one. This poem is about that one regret.

I remember that look in her eyes

That said to me, “It wouldn’t be wise”

Settled back and watched her play pool

Admirers gathered, like thieves to a jewel

Years later I wonder how long she played

Played straight, played safe, existing afraid

1989 it was illegal to be a queer in Defence

Mutterings of military prison for the offence

“You’ll get a long three weeks in Holsworthy”

Imagine how gruesome prison would be?

So we got lost, in a world, filled with fear

And now as I queer up in my 50th year

I wonder where she is and how she is now

If she is finally free from this, somehow?

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tried to find her

But still for some LGTBIQA+ remains a slur

At 50, in the age of finding those lost on the net

Never being able to find her is my one regret

I really don’t know if she’s happy or still scared

I hope she can remember just how much I care.

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