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 our 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.
It's a poem that so many of us know but how many of us really think about it? We place a poppy on our shirt or jacket for a few weeks out of the year and pay tribute to those who fought for us to have the things we do and to be able to have our own lives. How many of us ever think of them otherwise? Do we remember the history, what really happened? Did we lose loved ones, or will we? Members of my family were soldiers, friends of mine now are, and some intend to be. I commend them on their courage and strength. I commend them on their commitment. I worry about their safety and well being. I wonder if there will come a time that they won't be walking off the plane when they arrive home. I hope for their safe return home, though I know that for some this will not occur. I wear a poppy today to honour those who have and do fight for their country and fellow citizens. I wear it with awe and admiration for what they do and a gratefulness beyond words.
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