A Little Something to Fight the Poison

Monday, November 11, 2002
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.

--John McCrae (1872-1918)
Remembering those cut down in war means remembering what they gave, what was taken from them, and why, and never forgetting to ask whether the sacrifice is worth it, both then and now.