While having our unconventional Remembrance Day family gathering today roasting marshmallows around a roaring fire under the cherry tree in my yard, I pondered how different Remembrance Day is now from when I was a child. The minute of silence standing at attention in our classrooms and John McCrae’s “In Flanders Fields” poem memorized and recited in unison. Even at that young age, feeling like a part of the continuum that so many soldiers gave their lives to offer us. Today I’d like to carry on the tradition by posting that poem and hoping that those who read it feel blessed to have been gifted the freedom that we enjoy today.

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 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.

Facebook Comments

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *