6 Years Later

It has been 6 years since the enemy killed more than 3,000 of our fellows were coldly butcher in total contravention of the laws and usages of war. Those of us who can remember the taste of the grit from the smashed buildings and the shocked realization that as we breathed, we were ingesting the cremated ash of the dead will not forget.

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.