“We must never forget” the posters cry,
Remembrance day once more is nigh.
The nation weeps it’s tears of sorrow,
For our fallen heroes, then forgets tomorrow.
But what of us who did not die ?
Who raise empty eyes up to the sky
And stand there hollow in November rain
Forced once more to relive our pain
Not for us a single day,
To think of friends who passed away.
For us the memory never dies,
Often buried or hidden, to unexpectedly rise.
To catch unawares, the unseen crowd.
Released by a reminder, or a noise to loud.
To fight back the tears, and live with the dread
Sometimes even wishing it was we who were dead.
Bearing the guilt of having come through,
And of feeling relief that “it wasn’t me, it was you”
Or secretly crying for not thinking each day
Of friends taken from life, and the graves where they lay.
So please poppy seller, don’t add to my guilt.
If I avoid you, its only due to the walls I have built.
Sell poppies to those for whom it’s a day from their life.
My poppy is eternal, and nurtured by strife.