WAR

I opened my Chronicle this morning and was immediately struck by the front page image of the Lafayette crosses. My daughter lives near the site and when I visit her I pass by the Memorial. A constant reminder of the madness and futility of war. And, each time I see the field, the famous World War 1 poem, IN FLANDERS FIELD comes to mind. I'm 80 years old, and it seems that all my life there has been one war after another. When will we ever learn?


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.

John McCrae