Toward the end of October and up to November 11 every year, small red poppy flowers begin to blossom on the collars or lapels of millions of Canadians, marking the beginning of a journey back into the past and reflection of the present. Ironically, while opium which is extracted from poppy flower is widely regarded as illegal drugs, the flower itself is worn to commemorate those who died in War in Canada, US, UK, Australia, New Zealand and other Commonwealth countries.
"How could that be?" I asked myself and did a quick search on the Internet. "Wow, it did have a long and heart broken history."
The international adoption of the Poppy as a symbol of Remembrance in Canada and the Commonwealth nations could be traced back to Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae, a Canadian Medical Officer during the World War I. Upon witnessing the death of fellow soldiers and especially a good friend in the battles near Ypres, Belgium, the area traditionally called Flanders, he wrote a famous poem "In Flanders Fields" to express his anguish over the loss of his friend and a reflection of his surroundings – wild Poppies growing amid simple wooden crosses marking makeshift graves. Little did he know then that these 15 lines would become enshrined in the innermost thoughts and hearts of all soldiers who hear them. Through his words, the scarlet Poppy quickly became the symbol for soldiers who died in battle.
The beautiful bagpipe resounded throughout the whole house as I browsed through the poppy flower origin. Over the next few days this Scottish instrument will be heard so many times in public with a brief rest at 11:00 a.m. this Thursday. At that moment, people across Canada and British Commonwealth will observe 2 minutes of silence, a reminiscence of the end of World War I at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918 with the German signing of the Armistice. The official ceremonies will be held across all continents on this day as called Remembrance Day in Canada and Commonwealth countries and Veterans Day in US.
Holding a cup of hot coffee, I looked through the French door onto the vast ravine covered with a thin layer of whitish frost. Suddenly I recalled my visit to several war memorials in the past like Huaihai Campaign Martyr’s Memorial Tower Garden in Xuzhou, China, The Australian War Memorial in Canberra, Australia, National War Memorial in Ottawa, Canada, and Arlington National Cemetery in Washington D.C. in US. Every time I stood still and speechless within the massive emptiness, feeling nothing but deep sorrow, haunting silence, and deadly beauty.
The quartet's magnetic voice flowed into my ear again. Thoughtfully I settled myself comfortably into a couch while sipping the coffee. We will never have a future if we don't remember the past. And we can never live up to a future if we don't know how to appreciate the peace and joy of life now.
"To all who scacrificed their lives for what we have always taken for granted." I raised my half empty cup in the air, "Lest We Forget!"
Amazing Grace
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GYMLMj-SibU
In Flanders Fields
In Flanders Fields by John McCrae
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.
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.
