It was just another day
Where people live and people die,
Until a young boy in his school uniform attire
Walked up to me and said-
‘Hey Mister, Steve Irwin’s dead’.

It was not the fact that he was dead that initially struck me,
For he was ready all the time,
But that a young boy had told me as a passer by.

It was school talk.
The biggest thing to happen since Steve Irwin himself.
It would have interjected Little Lunch, Big Lunch,
Afternoon nap woken by How? And Where? And Why?

It was like the death of Tarzan.
The murder of the Phantom.
The very end of Superman.

‘Steve Irwin’s dead,’
Said the boy to another man.
‘Steve Irwin’s not dead!’…

He was wrong.
And right.

For Steve’s alive in khaki shorts and re-runs, and Australia Zoo;
In Myth and Legend,
Me, and you.

Steve Irwin’s not dead;
He’s taming Ungud the Dreamtime Serpent,
Wrestling Incan Crocodile Gods,
And surfing like brand new.

‘Steve Irwin’s not dead’,
Said the man.
And a lump of denial,
rose in his throat.

Benjamin W Wild © copyright 2006

ode to steve irwin

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