In Flanders Field by John McRae

It is once again time to reflect on our country's military veterans, those who have fought and died in the service of their country.  This year I have chosen a simple poem, one that goes straight to many of the complex emotions that I feel when I contemplate issues that are really bigger than I can get my head around on a daily basis.

I am particularly struck by those who are the peace keepers.  There is so much malevolence at work in the world today, so much violence that there are refugees streaming across Europe to escape.  May those in service to their country in missions of peace come home both safe and unharmed.

In Flanders Field

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.