Sunday, May 21, 2017

Feeling the Melancholy of War

In the US, folks reenact the battles of the Civil War every year. The following link is profoundly insightful--almost ghostly as the reenactors pose in modern America.

 http://www.npr.org/blogs/pictureshow/2012/05/24/153608877/a-civil-war-in-the-olive-garden-parking-lot

The Colonists were mostly interested in finance, right?

I've decided not to include gruesome photos of the dead, or the trenches, or videos of American teenagers losing a leg to an improvised roadside device. 

Instead, here is a well-known poem from WWI.

In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae

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

 Canadian soldiers volunteered for WWI 
after reading this.
 The poem was found in their pockets after they died.
 

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