Nov. 12th, 2006

essayel: original art by Slinkachu (triskele)
Yesterday was 11th Novemeber - you all know that. Today, in the UK at least, is Remembrance Sunday. I've read all the poetry on my flist, looked at the pictures of poppies, am listening to 'the Cenotaph' on Radio 4. I saw my husband off this morning to walk up to the cairn above Pen Cerrig something or another to lay a wreath where a plane went down.

Remembering is what it's all about and I have my own particular memories of this day. Foremost amongst them of standing on a freezing cold morning with my little mittened hand tucked into the palm of a man who was at Gallipoli and trying to ignore the tears on his cheeks as Taps played. We both wore bright red poppies.

To the people who want the poppies white - no, just no. The poppies in Flanders were red like the blood spilled there. Like the blood spilled in every conflict since. And as for that thing about them not being 'Christian' enough, the whole point about poppies is that they can be worn by anyone. Doesn't matter who you are or what you believe, Catholic, Wiccan, Muslim, Hindu, Taoist, anyone can wear a poppy to show that they remember what happened and would really really like for it not to happen again.

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