In Flanders fields <br />Where once not a blade grew <br />And men crossed the cruellest line <br /> <br /> <br />Their souls buried deep down <br />Hidden from horror <br />Eyes turned from mind <br />Egged on by fear, foe and white feather <br />While men in high places <br />Played dice with the devil <br /> <br /> <br />At its end, not a soul went untouched <br />Not a mind went unquestioned of its sanity <br />All doubt of mans insanity laid to rest <br />And with the stout resolution to hide agony <br />All emotion swept neatly under the rug <br /> <br /> <br />The lost remembered faithfully <br />Their gardens kept and crafted <br />Their cries fading as the years passed <br /> <br /> <br />Mans stations changed <br />Formality relaxed, equality took root <br />Yet rumbling dark clouds appeared upon the horizon <br />It seemed that with time stupidity flourished <br />And the call came once more <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />This time surpassed the lines of cruelty <br />And in the ultimate show <br />Mans inhumanity was realized <br />With a cast of millions <br />Two exploding suns <br />And a world left fractured <br />Never to find peace again <br /> <br /> <br />I stand in Flanders fields <br />Its poppies bright in bloom <br />And wonder <br />© Alan Cockman 12-12 -2013 <br /> <br />In tribute to John McCrae<br /><br />ALAN cockman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/flanders-fields-2/
