Sunday, 9 November 2008


This Sunday is Remembrance Sunday.It is such a humbling day. Watching the parade of 'old boys' as my granny calls them or seeing grainy footage from trenches or hospitals (always a jaunty grin and a cig hanging out of the mouth)- you can't help but gulp back the tears and feel the lightness of being alive just a touch more keenly.

There are just three veterans from the first world war still living, the youngest is 108 years old(yes that's right!!). He was interviewed on the radio and in a rasping voice he said that every day was remembrance day. How true that is, whether you have lost one person or a while battalion.
This poem is by Wilfred Owen who died one week before the end of war. His mother was told of his death on the very same day as Armistice was declared.

Move him into the sun -
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields unsown.
Always it woke him,
even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old sun will know.

Think how it wakes the seeds -
Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs, so dear-acheived, are sides,
Full-nerved - still warm -
too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?

It is also a time full of memories for me as today is my lovely Pompa's Birthday, he would have been 98. He went into hospital this day last year and passed quietly away. Tomorrow will be Jerry's birthday- the two dates so close always and now we just have the memory of each.So strange how close it is to remembrance day..

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