IN FLANDERS FIELDS
An
old man now, stooped and frail – skin like parchment,
hands that trembled,
hands that trembled,
eyes
misted blue with age.
Watery or perhaps teary from remembering old mates.
Those young lads from country towns who fought so bravely.
Watery or perhaps teary from remembering old mates.
Those young lads from country towns who fought so bravely.
Fearless
larrikins, who fought and died
and offered their comradeship far from home.
and offered their comradeship far from home.
As
he looked across the wild flower meadow he remembered it as it was.
Pock
marked with shell holes
with the traces of gas still in the air,
with the traces of gas still in the air,
Coils
of barbed wire
sharp,
snaggy,
impenetrable.
Festooned with bodies - khaki and red .
Caught just like the wool on the fences back home.
sharp,
snaggy,
impenetrable.
Festooned with bodies - khaki and red .
Caught just like the wool on the fences back home.
But
there the distant horizons stretched into infinity –
the air was crisp and clean,
the air was crisp and clean,
mellifluous
bird -song permeated the air,
and the gentle sounds of ewes calling to lambs
and the gentle sounds of ewes calling to lambs
Water trickling down the gully into the creek bed below
was calming and soothing
and cleansing.
was calming and soothing
and cleansing.
At
home he found the peace he craved –
respite from the memories.
respite from the memories.
He
didn’t want to remember the battle fields of France
ablaze with red poppies,
ablaze with red poppies,
but
every year he did –
the unbidden memories creeping into his head,
the unbidden memories creeping into his head,
the
tremors shaking his old bones.
He was soldiering on –
but longed for peace.
He was soldiering on –
but longed for peace.
For
the world,
for himself
and for those who rested now in wild flower meadows.
for himself
and for those who rested now in wild flower meadows.
+++
ANZAC DAY 2013
I came across
the following article which I considered to be noteworthy and something that
should make Australians proud. Blessings
to Brendan Nelson for instigating an idea that is so simple in its concept and
yet will deliver such a strong and meaningful message
Taken from an article by
Tony Wright
- NATIONAL
AFFAIRS EDITOR OF THE AGE
Anzac Day 2013 – Lest we forget. The Australian War Memorial begins a new
nightly ritual.
As the memorial begins closing down for
the evening at 4.50pm, a piper will play the
Lament, and the story of one of the 102,000 names inscribed on the memorial's honour roll
will be read. One evening it might be the life story of a nurse, the next a sailor, the next a
soldier or an airman; plucked from any of the wars in which Australians have fought and
died. Finally, a bugler will play the Last Post.
Lament, and the story of one of the 102,000 names inscribed on the memorial's honour roll
will be read. One evening it might be the life story of a nurse, the next a sailor, the next a
soldier or an airman; plucked from any of the wars in which Australians have fought and
died. Finally, a bugler will play the Last Post.
The idea for the ritual came to the
memorial all the way from Ypres.
Night after night those stories will
unfold, and then the Last Post, the traditional military
signal of the end of the day and, for the dead, a reminder that their duty is done, will be
played.
signal of the end of the day and, for the dead, a reminder that their duty is done, will be
played.
The war memorial will not easily run
out of stories to tell - certainly not in our lifetimes, or
those of our children or grandchildren. The 102,000 stories behind the names currently on
the Roll of Honour are enough for 279 years of nightly rituals. The evening closing ceremony
will be streamed live on the memorial's website: awm.gov.au/
those of our children or grandchildren. The 102,000 stories behind the names currently on
the Roll of Honour are enough for 279 years of nightly rituals. The evening closing ceremony
will be streamed live on the memorial's website: awm.gov.au/
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