Poppies
(For Liam O’Neill and in memory of my grandparents)
The poppy’s capsule oozes juice
That brings us sleep, helps ease our pain.
On one more continent the seeds
Are mixed with dust and blood as we
Forget that we must not forget.
The poppies bloom, their beauty fades,
Their petals scatter on the ground
In Flanders or in Afghan fields.
While poppies weep their latex tears,
We plant our flowers once again.
Have just read a salutary account of a Luftwaffe pilot whose body was washed up on the beach at Dawlish on 13th January 1943. He had been shot down three days earlier during the bombing raid on Teignmouth. He was buried with full military honours in a war grave in Exeter cemetery.
R.I.P. Feldwebel Joachim von Bitter, age 20
Six weeks later the British pilot who had shot him down was killed whilst on a similar foray in France. His body was recovered and he too was buried with full military honours at the Le Folgoet district cemetery, close to Brest.
R.I.P. Flight Lieutenant John Small
Pro Patria Mori ..... what a waste war was, is and ever shall be.