The Ultimate Sacrifice

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

This photo was taken earlier in the year near Wakefield, but reminds me so much of the battlefields of Northern Europe where so many young people made the ultimate sacrifice.

We visited Northern France and Belgium in 2010 and I'm still haunted by the size of the craters on the battlefields where so many lives were blown away in the blink of an eye.

A time for reflection