Remembrance
Poppies line up in faded rows
Pinned to breasts that swell with pride.
Creaking limbs and crooked backs
Dusty comrades, side by side.
What is it that they remember
This dwindling crew, this ragged band?
Can they still dredge up the picture
Of events long past, of another land?
But every year they make their way
From faded mansions, council flats
With demob suits and Brylcremed hair
Regimental ties and breast-clutched hats.
And children at school in straggling groups
Are torn from lessons scuffling and yawning
To listen to the tale of slaughter
And have their turn to share the mourning.
And what is this remembrance for
When nothing changes? Can it make sense
For lists of dead and former carnage
To meddle with their innocence?
And here the great and good and rich
Stand in line just as they ought.
Lowered heads and furtive glances
Seeking the best camera shot.
But it is they who bear the guilt
Of taking new young men to war
To feign the image of true statesmen
And make their mark on history's score.
And all around the towns and hamlets
Is touted yearly “Lest we forget”
But it is clear we have forgotten
For nothing new has happened yet.
So let us forget and free our hearts
From inherited guilt and hand-me-down pain.
Claim the future for our children
And seize the chance to start again.