Flanders Field
The once battlefields of Flanders
Were soon clothed with Poppy red
Perhaps a natural reflection of
All the blood that had been shed.
The War Cemeteries laid out
In lines of stones or crosses
A constant stark reminder of
The scale of a nation’s losses.
Each bearing rank and name
Just brutally stating the fact
Listing the tragedy of a war
And it’s inevitable impact.
Many of them are anonymous
Their identities not known
Only that they were casualties.
The battlefields had grown.
With a simple inscription
That could say no more
In carved block letters
A soldier of the Great War
Crops of simple monuments
Like lines and rows of teeth
Signifying to the world at large
A hero lies interred beneath.
Though visitors know
Just what to expect
The very magnitude
Brings stunned respect
Some stand in silence
Some stand and cry
Some quietly ask
The simple question why?
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