We sit on the field looking over the land,
The markers a plenty, telling again.
The flowers beside marking the ones that came,
The trinkets on some telling the same.
A teddy bear, a ring, a picture, something,
Little bits of life to colour the scene.
Some of us standing alone by the place,
Whispering quietly, tears upon our face.
The words spoken to tell of what came,
The lives saved, promises kept, wishes that remain.
The moment arrives, the world stills,
Our eyes close, heads bow, words are stilled.
For some the memories remain,
The friendship, the battle. the moments that came.
For others they speak of more,
The love shared, the moments of joy that were shared..
Over there stand the mothers that cry,
Their hearts both proud and yet breaking as they weep.
But over there, there in the fields,
There is one more group that we see.
They run between the markers,
Their voices loud, their games aplenty, their laughter abounds.
They see the sadness in many of our eyes,
They ask of us, why do you cry?
We try to explain between our tears,
Of love and hope, and all of our fears.
They do not understand,
How can they in youth?
Our words are meaningless,
For they have not seen our truths.
They look at us and ask,
Will this happen again?
We are quiet for a moment,
What hope can we spread?
A lie today would tarnish them all,
The truth as we know it would harm them more.
Then we manage to say,
I don’t know, but we can try can’t we today?
The children smile at that,
They look upon the markers again.
To our surprise they look determined,
Focused, with a plan.
We ask what they are thinking out of concern,
Did we do wrong in bringing them to see our hurt?
They answer us with no malice or pain,
A simple statement they speak of to us all quite plain.
We won’t forget.
Not now, not ever what they gave.
We smile and just nod,
There is nothing to say.
They run off again to those we left behind,
To tell them all the same.
The sun breaks over the fields to warm the scene,
Life returns, we move on, our words echoing in the frame.
But as we do, we can never forget,
What they did, what we promised, what the future has been given for this.
And on the fields the poppies grow,
Silent remembrances that will forever know.