REMEMBRANCE DAY 

By Peter Woodgate 

Once in a dream, I heard the sound

Of a thousand million souls

Crying out for freedom,

Trapped within the prison of injustice,

Concealed within my mind.

Each had been condemned by humanity

The result of greed, of selfishness, and lies,

They turned to face me, slowly,

With outstretched arms, accusingly

And questions in their eyes.

To those questions asked, I had no answers,

To the reasons why I could not say,

To when the world would understand

There was no indication

And, until I gave an explanation,

They would stay.

Each one a bead of sweat upon my brow,

I tossed and turned within this dream of woe,

Face upon pitiful face flashed into view,

My eyes, tight shut, I prayed that they would go.

It was then I found myself within a field,

All full of poppies that I walked upon,

I plucked one, held it up, for all the world to see,

They turned around, faded, and were gone.

 

Of course, we must remember them,

Yet I, still have, this grave concern,

They gave their lives, we have been taught,

But will we ever learn?

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate