Sunday, 11 November 2012
I watched a child today at a remembrance day ceremony. His father and I wearing our uniforms, sharing a cold and somber moment, as some wept, others lowered heads. Through it all this child happily played, holding his father, laughing, singing, hugging, never having known hunger, violence, destruction or the loss that others in the room were vividly remembering. This is the way it should be. If for no other reason this is the reason to remember.
It made me think of the famous poem
In Flanders Fields
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived , felt dawn, saw sunset glow
Loved and were loved and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up the quarrel with the foe,
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields
John McCrae, 3rd May 1915
Until Next time.