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Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields
Where once not a blade grew
And men crossed the cruellest line


Their souls buried deep down
Hidden from horror
Eyes turned from mind
Egged on by fear, foe and white feather
While men in high places
Played dice with the devil


At its end, not a soul went untouched
Not a mind went unquestioned of its sanity
All doubt of mans insanity laid to rest
And with the stout resolution to hide agony
All emotion swept neatly under the rug


The lost remembered faithfully
Their gardens kept and crafted
Their cries fading as the years passed


Mans stations changed
Formality relaxed, equality took root
Yet rumbling dark clouds appeared upon the horizon
It seemed that with time stupidity flourished
And the call came once more







This time surpassed the lines of cruelty
And in the ultimate show
Mans inhumanity was realized
With a cast of millions
Two exploding suns
And a world left fractured
Never to find peace again


I stand in Flanders fields
Its poppies bright in bloom
And wonder
© Alan Cockman 12-12 -2013

In tribute to John McCrae

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