In Flanders Fields…Revisited

With acknowledgement to John McCrae

In Flanders Fields, poppies still blow,

Between old crosses, white as snow

That mark their place; while in the sky,

The fighter jets go screaming by,

And drown the sound of larks below.

They are our Dead. And as years go,

We live, feel dawn, see sunsets glow,

Love and are loved, because they lie

In Flanders Fields.

We took the quarrel to the foe,

From all their failing hands

We caught the torch, and try to hold it high,

Lest we forget all those that died

And now sleep deep, as poppies blow

In Flanders Fields

I have not heard the roar of guns,

No screams of pain, no blackened suns

Have my eyes seen, because they died for peace

In Flanders Fields

And yet a darkness walks the years

Too many wars, too many tears

Too many crosses row on row

How many years before we know

The peace of those who lie

In Flanders Fields?

Why does Mankind still quarrel so?

Why do the bombs and bullets flow?

- Because -

Injustice stalks the land

From Chechnya to Vietnam

And where men weep, We dare not sleep

Though poppies blow

Madmen still dig

More Flanders Fields.

Thanks Dad

Francis Mahé

Hamilton, Ontario

November 11, 1999

(Not to be reprinted or distributed without permission)