If you are reading this post today - you have a hobby which revolves around War. Be it gang war, galactic civil war or war in a fantasy world created by the mind of artists - it is important to remember the travesty of war and that we should all strive for a day where the only wars ARE fought with toy soldiers and not spent in the currency of life.
Four years ago I shared with you a poem to commemorate the 100 year anniversary of the start of the ‘Great War’ today I would like to share one to commemorate the end:
Why are they selling poppies, Mummy?
Selling poppies in town today.
The poppies, child, are flowers of love.
For the men who marched away.
But why have they chosen a poppy, Mummy?
Why not a beautiful rose?
Because my child, men fought and died
In the fields where the poppies grow.
But why are the poppies so red, Mummy?
Why are the poppies so red?
Red is the colour of blood, my child.
The blood that our soldiers shed.
The heart of the poppy is black, Mummy.
Why does it have to be black?
Black, my child, is the symbol of grief.
For the men who never came back.
But why, Mummy are you crying so?
Your tears are giving you pain.
My tears are my fears for you my child.
For the world is forgetting again.
The world mustn’t forget what division, racism and prejudice accomplish - death. Everyone is equal, let’s remember the sacrifice of 100 years ago by mending today’s wounds before they turn into another event to remember.