In Flander’s Field – Echoed

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
In Flanders fields.

To keep working I’m going to find poetry daily, and either comment, or use it as a prompt for my own piece.

Echos in Flander’s Field

Friend, lover, neighbor, foe
Violent stripped meat from bone
Punctured, torn, rend flesh
Last action reduces him to
Soldier, warrior, enemy

Crosses stand vigil, memorial
Headstone settles, forgotten debts
Virtue, honor, heroism, courage
Skeletal remains, buried past

Father, brother, husband, son
Laid aside, beside, against
Shoulder to shoulder, grim
Formation one last time

Photo by Josh Roland on Unsplash