Chota

Chota

Tuesday, 11 November 2014

{poppies at the Tower of London}



My mum's relative, John McCrae, a doctor serving with the Canadian Armed Forces, scribbled down a poem on May 1915 in Ypres, that would become the most recited poem on Remembrance Day:

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


I am grateful that guns no longer are heard above our heads here in London, but I am also reminded that so many people around the world do not know peace.
The exhibition at the Tower of London, which I visited a couple of weekends ago, offers a poignant visual to the text: 







xo, 
L

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