LEST WE FORGET

Today is Remembrance Sunday, this day we remember the fallen from many wars – wreaths are laid at the Cenotaph by The Queen and countless other dignitaries. At the same time around the country are those who understand this day all too well, for they have lost loved ones.

One of my favourite poets is Wilfred Owen a young man who fought and died during the First World War. His poems are disturbing and sad and realistic – but then he knew.


Anthem for Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
-Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,-
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.


Our love and our thoughts go out to all families around the world who have lost a loved one because of wars.