Reflections

The harbinger of Christmas expectations -

November,

The disappearing daylight hours,

The month of reflection and remembrance,

Is born in ghoulish celebrations,

Explodes in bangs and shrieks

Of spectacular, colourful manifestations,

Then fades to solemn reverence.

It is the time set aside by the Church

To pray for those whose earthly ties

No longer physically bind us to our loved ones.

As November crawls through

Ever shortening days and long, dark nights,

We recall and burnish, once again,

The memories of all (combatants and victims)

Who died in the Wars which have scarred our civilisation,

For over a hundred years.

Time, the Relentless Protagonist, moves on.

This Remembrance Sunday, for us and many others,

Will be poignantly different:

No polishing of badges and medals,

No straightening of cherished regimental tie,

No affixing to lapel of blood red poppy,

No faltering walk in camaraderie

Along Liverpool streets,

With those who unfailingly march

To keep alive the memories

Of all who fought and still fight,

For a world, where all have the right

To live in freedom and at peace.

This year -

A nostalgic framed photo, a neatly folded tie,

A poppy, beribboned medals, a maroon beret,

Showing its age but proudly displaying two badges,

And a lit candle - reflecting not only on metallic artefacts,

But on past deeds of bravery and devoted service.

Not, of course, forgetting,

The ascending bouquet of prayers scenting the essence of profound love!

ns -

From our resident poet