It’s Remembrance Day. In the morning I will be running a workshop at Camp Widow called “When The Darkness Closes In.” 11:00am will come during that workshop. We will pause for a moment of silence. I will read In Flanders Fields by John McCrae. And I will read it to a room full of widows and widowers who know the devastation of acute bereavement all too well, as McCrae did.
I have read McCrae’s poem over an intercom at school growing up, and again at my corporate job when I worked in management. But this year…this year will be different for so many reasons.
- I now live in Guelph where John McCrae lived. His legacy is ever present here. And I feel a special kind of responsibility honour him and his writing.
- Some widows and widowers in the room will likely be from other countries. They will be taking a moment with us to experience a long-standing Canadian-tradition of how we remember those we’ve loved and lost who fought in war.
- Above all, the listeners know loss; some perhaps even by war, as John McCrae did.
Wherever you are please join us at 11:00am for a moment of silence, followed by reading 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.