NOVEMBER THE ELEVENTH.

We remember you who remember them!

We were not there at Ypres or Passchendarlr;

How can we share in that experience?

We do not want to! For memories recounted frighten us!

Were events as painful, oppressive, such epitomes of suffering?

How many dead?

My neighbours on my street; the students at my school?

More?

A thousand; tens of thousands; even beyond!

Hundreds of thousands; millions perhaps?

Was it war?

What of starvation; poverty? Many die daily!

Is this war?

Do we listen when the dying speak?

How many times have we passed?

Flanders Field!

Do they sleep, or restless stand alert?

For Dunkirk, Arnhem, Tripoli; Which battlefield?

Those guns left their mark.

Age and race were not of concern;

Many have fallen; leaving comrades and loved ones!

Again the numbers only show inhuman humanity.

The years no longer creep, but march stealthily;

They stop for no-one.

What purpose served?

Do we know?

Have we learned?

Is this war?

Are the dying silenced, that we fail to speak?

We remember; not as well as you!

Our image fades;

In glory?

No! Ignorance, we prefer not to know!

Our story is embellished with the good;

Which good? Can there be any?

Comradeship stood rank by rank;

A shoulder to a storm!

Friendships formed, short lived; a lifetime!

In a moment lost!

At home, at the "Front," chances were taken;

To build a dream, a future!

How many moments were shared?

Why have this war?

Should we scream the question to the rooftops?