I thought that it being the day after the official day of remembrance and a few days before all the official marches and parades. All the political manoeuvring and pomp that surrounds such a day. I would do my own simple thing and share some of my poppies with you.
Some years ago at this time I wrote the following words.
I was low, in dark despair,
Caught in the time warp of my own
black and lonely abyss.
No thought beyond my own.
No care beyond the cares of selfish me.
My only thought was why?
The beating drum of ME, ME, ME.
and MY, MY , MY.
Drowned every sound
except the selfish hammering in my head.
Then there before me,
blood red in all their glory.
A field of poppies.
The vibrant hues pulled me from the pit,
Back into the reality of creation.
I thought of years of blood,
poured forth in such a field.
Wars fought, that I might have this day.
Free to wander along the way.
There before me in all their glory
A simple field of red.
I heard the birds rejoice in glory
and no more thought of ME.
And in the sound of silence,
the beating drum went still.
And I drank again the deep refreshing joy of life,
and left with thankful heart.
How precious each beating moment is.
This blog is linke to my other. It iIs Not As Even As It Seems