The Fallen, In Remembrance

We Will Never Forget


The world has just fallen silent to mark the centenary of Armistice. One hundred years has passed since World War 1. As always during the two minute silence that I always, always observe my mind bounces between prayer, reflection and gratitude, my eyes like diamonds holding tears that were I to give in to the sorrow that shrouds my soul on such occasions, I would have great difficulty in recovering. And this is coming from someone who has never set foot on a battlefield during times of war. I cannot even begin to try and imagine what veterans are feeling on Armistice day, so I wont pretend to try.

The world owes a debt to soldiers that can never be adequately repaid. The gratitude ought to hang from our every breath. Our freedoms earned by the blood and souls of those we call heroes, and are indeed heroes, even when the word is still not grand enough. We thank you, I thank you, a million times thank you. Not enough I know, you deserve much much more.


a short addendum
I wasn't going to do this but sadness gave way to anger and the article pulled me back. The thing that makes me most sad (and im not alone in this of course) is the fact that we expect the courageous to fight for us, to give the ultimate sacrifice and die for us, but we never learn and whether it is twenty years or two hundred years, our species are quick to war. We never tire of it. We pat ourselves on the back and throw around words like "civilised" but don't believe a word of it. Individually we might be but humans on the whole are just as savage as the first of our kind were when they walked the earth.
We can pretend otherwise but war is in our blood. To be man is to be with the sword and furies.

from "The Green Fields of France

Well the sorrow the suffering the glory the pain
The killing the dying was all done in vain
For young Willy Mc Bride it all happened again
And again, and again, and again, and again.

Don't Sleep

Don't sleep cariad fach,
the goodgly sons and daughters
are racing to your whispers
even when darkness grips
the cold shard of night.
Yn disgwyl arno ti.

Do not sleep dear Wales,
fall not to despair and anger
and lift the light of Hope
to find our babe,
lead her home to Mami.
Peidiwch cysgy blodyn
mae pawb yn dod...

FOR APRIL JONES

© Steven Francis poems 2012